


Prodigal Son

by ImpishTubist



Series: As a Desert in Bloom [2]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Angst, Illnesses, Mention of Past Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-20 22:41:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10672248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpishTubist/pseuds/ImpishTubist
Summary: A decade and a half after the end of the Dominion War, negotiations begin between the Federation and the Cardassian Union to discuss the ownership of a handful of still-disputed planets. Chakotay’s family and his homeworld get caught in the middle.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [notluvulongtime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notluvulongtime/gifts).



> This was a birthday present for notluvulongtime... from last year. 
> 
> Warnings for angst, illness, and more OCs than you can shake a stick at (also death of an original character). Probably won't make much sense if you haven't read "As a Desert in Bloom" first.

Tom always forgot how unbearable high summer on Dorvan V could be until he was smack-dab in the middle of it once again. With the temperature topping one-hundred-and-twenty degrees Fahrenheit more days than not, even the hardiest colonists retreated indoors and livestock were kept in shelters until the hottest part of the day passed. Most everyone in the settlement was Dorvan born and raised, so they knew how to look after themselves in the planet’s extreme temperatures, but every once in a while Tom got a call about a suspected heatstroke.

 

It turned out to be a false alarm this time, thankfully, but on his way back home another call came in, this time for a broken arm.

 

One splinted-and-bandaged limb later, Tom was back in the shade of his home. He peeled off his sweat-soaked clothing and took the briefest shower he could. They would have to start rationing their water supply again in the coming weeks, if Chaya’s weather projections proved correct. It was unlikely that the settlement would see rain for at least another four months.

 

Once, he had made the mistake of suggesting to Chakotay that the settlement move north, away from Dorvan’s desert equator and closer to the steppes. All he’d gotten out of that conversation was an icy glare and a brisk, “This is our home, Tom.” He never brought it up again.

 

The remains of breakfast awaited him in the kitchen, and he surveyed the mess with a sigh. Peval, true to fashion, had eaten his in three minutes flat and abandoned the bowl on the table before racing out the door that morning. Tom at least had managed to move his dishes to the sink before tackling the non-emergency medical messages that had come through to his computer terminal overnight. Chakotay never ate breakfast, but he hadn’t left the house without first downing two cups of steaming tea, and his mug was still on the counter. How he could drink the stuff in this weather, Tom would never know. With the sixteen- and eighteen-hour days the Council had been pulling these past few weeks, though, Chakotay had come to rely on the stuff.

 

A glance at the computer screen on the wall told Tom that outside the temperature had dipped to one-hundred-fifteen. It was the coolest he’d seen it in days, though still far outside his comfort zone. He wondered how the ruling council was faring in the colony’s administrative building. Its climate controls had malfunctioned yesterday in the extreme heat, and it was estimated that the repairs would take another couple of days.

 

If not, well, at least the Cardassians would be comfortable inside the council chambers, Chakotay had pointed out last night with bitter amusement. The idea had been his, after all, to have the negotiations to take place during the hottest part of the year on Dorvan. It was a subtle manipulation. Cardassians were difficult enough to deal with under the best of circumstances. When they were uncomfortable, as with all creatures, their dispositions worsened. These negotiations were delicate, years in the making, and Chakotay wanted every advantage he could wring from the situation.

 

The back door banged open, startling Tom out of his thoughts, and he turned around as Peval blew into the house.

 

“Hey, Tom.” Peval plucked an apple from the bowl on the table and bit into it. “I’m going to the flats, wanna come?”

 

Tom could think of nothing he wanted less than to go outside again. “Absolutely not.”

 

Peval shrugged. “‘Kay. I’m going with Kitar and Kabek. We’ll be home by sunset. When’s Dad coming back?”

 

“Probably not until late. It’ll be just us for dinner.”

 

Peval’s eyes lit up. “Cool. Can we have Ratamba stew?”

 

Tom laughed. “Sure. You’ll have to help me clean when you get back, though. Dad’s going to have an aneurysm when he finally pulls his nose out of council business long enough to notice the state of this house.”

 

Peval pulled a face. “Yeah, like that’ll ever happen.”

 

“Peval -”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. The fate of our entire planet rests on these negotiations going well and Dad’s under a lot of pressure, et cetera. Can I go now?”

 

“Yes, go,” Tom said with a laugh, and he had barely finished speaking before Peval was off again like a shot.

 

****

 

Chakotay sat back in his chair and passed a hand over his eyes.

 

“Run that one by me again,” he said.

 

“The Cardassian delegation would like us to set up private meetings with all the families who adopted the orphans,” Sara repeated. “One family at a time, with the children present as well.”

 

“No,” Chakotay said. “Next item.”

 

“Chakotay,” Tamati said quietly.

 

Chakotay pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Sweat prickled the skin between his shoulder blades.

 

“Private meetings with the parents,” he said finally, opening his eyes, “and _without_ the children.”

 

“One meeting,” Tamati said, “with all the families at once, children included. The council will be present as well.”

 

Chakotay looked at him. “Tamati -”

 

“They’ll want to see the children. That, they won’t negotiate on.”

 

“I agree,” Kiri said. There were murmurs of assent around the table. “I’ll respond to the Cardassians’ request first thing in the morning. What’s the word on the Federation delegation?”

 

“They are en route and will arrive in five days,” Itzel said.

 

“Assuming there are no delays, both delegations will come into orbit within minutes of one another. They’ll beam down at the same time,” Chakotay said. Timing was everything, and appearances were crucial. It was imperative they didn’t give the Cardassians the idea that they were favoring one delegation over the other, even though the colony’s views on the whole matter were well-known. Dorvan V overwhelmingly wished to be returned to Federation hands. “The delegations will sleep on their respective vessels at night and spend their days with us. Meals each day will alternate equally between Earth and Cardassia Prime cuisines.”

 

“The great hall will be kept at a temperature of no less than eighty degrees Fahrenheit and no more than eighty-five degrees Fahrenheit,” Tamati said, consulting his notes. He looked up and added dryly, “Assuming anyone ever fixes the controls, that is.”

 

Kiri looked down at her own list. “I see we moved the open forum to the afternoon of the first day.”

 

“We thought it would be better to begin with the tour of the settlement instead, and then move to the open forum after lunch,” Apeli said. “It will be cooler in the morning. Besides which, the Cardassians might be in a better frame of mind to hear the concerns of our colonists if they aren’t bombarded with them right away.”

 

“I approve the change.” Kiri made note of this. “Is there anything else?”

 

“Nothing that can’t wait until the morning,” Qura said.

 

“I’ll see you all back here first thing,” Kiri said. She gathered her notes and left the table. Slowly, the rest of the ministers filed out after her.

 

Chakotay knew he was in that odd state of exhaustion where his body physically ached but his mind would not settle. He’d have to put in a couple of hours working in the shed out back when he got home, or he’d risk waking Tom with his tossing and turning.

 

“Talavera and her family are going to speak in favor of remaining under Cardassian rule.” Tamati fell into step beside him as they crossed the wide, empty streets of the settlement.

 

“Hell.” Chakotay had at least half-expected this, but it was still a blow. So far, that made three families of Cardassian children who were in favor of remaining with the Union. “What about Behar?”

 

“Undecided, but I’ve a feeling he’s leaning toward advocating for complete independence.”

 

“That’s his right,” Chakotay said, but couldn’t help the note of frustration in his voice. That was even more of a far-fetched idea than being given over to the Federation. One step at a time. They had to obtain their victories one step at a time. They couldn’t make the leap from living under rule of the Cardassian Union to complete independence. Being returned to Federation hands was enough of a stretch as it was.

 

“They can’t force the children to go with them, you know,” Tamati said.

 

“I know.” That, at least, was one worry off his plate. When the Cardassian Union finally took notice of Dorvan V again two years ago, it had been because they wanted to mine the southern continent. Six months of negotiations followed, and in the end the colonists had managed to come out of it with paperwork that stated the Cardassian orphans were legally members of the Dorvan V settlement, and that they were not bound to any blood family they might have elsewhere in the Union. “But there’s always the chance that the children might be curious about their origins and want to visit Cardassia Prime. Perhaps even remain there. Several of them are now legally adults in the eyes of the Union.”

 

“Including Peval.”

 

“Including Peval,” Chakotay said quietly.

 

They paused at the top of a small rise. Most of the settlement was spread out below. The houses, save for a handful, were dark. Tamati lived to the west; Chakotay, to the east.

 

“It’s natural for the children to be curious,” Tamati said finally. “I doubt any would leave, though. Half-Cardassian children would be about as welcome on Cardassia Prime as they would be on Earth. Distrust runs deep on both sides.”

 

Chakotay was suddenly very tired. “Go home, Tamati.”

 

Tamati gave a soft huff of laughter. “But we have such stimulating conversations. Anaru hates politics.”

 

“He should have known what he was getting into when he married you.”

 

“I’m not sure that he did,” Tamati said, his tone unexpectedly somber as he gazed out across the settlement. Before Chakotay could probe that comment further, he added, “Oh, the light’s still on in our house. He’s waited up for me again, the idiot. I should go. Don’t forget, we need to discuss seating arrangements at the meals tomorrow.”

 

Chakotay groaned inwardly. So far, that was the one item that was taking them the longest to iron out. Of everything, it seemed the least important.

 

“I won’t forget,” he said. “Goodnight, Tamati.”

 

****

 

The chatter of insects woke Tom just before dawn. All the windows in their bedroom had been thrown wide, the cool nighttime air whistling through the house. He’d close them all again just as the sun started to peek over the ridge, and the house would remain tolerable until mid-morning. The life outside would fall silent as soon as the first rays of light touched the valley, and the world would soon grow still under the baking heat.

 

He rolled over. Chakotay was still asleep, head turned away from Tom, a hand resting on his stomach. Impossible to know when he had come to bed last night. Tom made it to midnight before dropping off, and still Chakotay hadn’t returned home.

 

However it turned out, he would be glad when these negotiations were over.

 

He curled up against Chakotay without waking him, and managed another hour of sleep before the alarm went off.

 

“Morning.” Chakotay kissed him in greeting. “Did I wake you last night?”

 

“No. When did you get in?”

 

“It was almost two.”

 

Tom winced inwardly. “How are preparations going?”

 

They spent a few minutes going over the minutiae of the previous day. Chakotay talked about the ever-present headache of the seating arrangements; Tom told him about Elija’s broken arm and Peval’s antics.

 

“Peval spent nearly the whole day outside with his friends. Didn’t even break a sweat. I know it’s his Cardassian physiology, but it’s still something. And then he was sleeping under two blankets last night when I looked in on him.” Tom stretched, felt his spine pop. “Wish I had his genetic makeup, sometimes.”

 

“You’d never survive a day on Earth if you did. He’d be miserable almost anywhere else but here.” Chakotay checked the time, then carefully extracted himself from Tom. “I’ll be back late again tonight. Don’t wait up.”

 

“Hey.” Tom slid a finger into Chakotay’s waistband and pulled him in. “Love you.”

 

“Love you, too.” Chakotay’s warm voice was full of affection. He kissed Tom again and added, “Clean the house sometime, would you?”

 

Tom was lulled back into sleep by the sound of the shower, and Chakotay was gone when he woke again. It was just after dawn. He made his rounds of the house, closing all the windows and drawing the blinds in an effort to stave off the worst of the heat until later. He took a cold shower and dressed in an outfit of light cotton, resigned to the fact that he had perhaps an hour or two of comfort before the worst part of the day set in.

 

Peval was eating breakfast in the kitchen when Tom walked in.

 

“Hey.” Tom squeezed Peval’s shoulder. “Sleep okay?”

 

“Yeah.” Peval shrugged. “It was kind of cold.”

 

Even now, he was dressed in pajama pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Tom touched the back of his hand to Peval’s forehead and found his skin chilled.

 

“Take a warm shower when you’re done eating,” he said, moving over to the coffee pot and pouring himself a mug. “By the time that’s done, it should have warmed up enough outside to where you’re comfortable. What are you up to today?”

 

“I was going to go help Aunt Chaya at the lab for a while,” Peval said. “I don’t know about after that.”

 

“Okay, well, I have a few house calls to make today, so just make sure you’re home for dinner. Dad’s busy again, so it’ll just be us.”

 

“Hey, Tom?”

 

Tom paused in the doorway. “Yeah?”

 

Peval picked at a loose thread on his sleeve. “I - uh.”

 

He stopped. Tom went over to the table and sat across from him.

 

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

 

“Nothing,” Peval said. “Never mind.”

 

“Hey.” Tom ducked his head to meet Peval’s eyes. “You can tell me.”

 

“It’s just - I was wondering… How do you get a Federation citizenship application? Do you know anyone in Starfleet who could send you the paperwork?”

 

“I’m sure I do,” Tom said warily. “Why?”

 

Peval blew out a sharp breath between his teeth and said, “I want to go to the Academy.”

 

Tom’s chest constricted. “Kiddo, you’re only sixteen.”

 

“I have to establish residency in the Federation first. That takes a year,” Peval said in a rush. “I’ll be seventeen by the time I’m a Federation citizen. If I apply to the Academy right away, then there’s a chance I’ll be able to start at eighteen, just like most cadets.”

 

Tom shouldn’t have been surprised. The first thing Peval had ever said about himself was that he wanted to go to the Academy; that he wanted to be a pilot. He’d been unwavering about it. According to Chakotay, he’d wanted this ever since he was eight years old. It still felt like a blow.

 

“You realize what that would mean, don’t you?” Tom said gently. Peval swallowed visibly, but he nodded. “Dad and I aren’t Federation citizens any longer. If these negotiations fall through, we couldn’t…”

 

He trailed off. The application process for a pass across the border took ages to process. Visiting their child was a compelling reason to cross into Federation space, meaning that it was unlikely their applications would be turned down, but it wasn’t an urgent reason. They could apply tomorrow and still be waiting for permission two years down the line.

 

“I know it’s not great timing,” Peval said. “I know Dad has other things to worry about right now.”

 

“Does he know?” Tom asked.

 

“No,” Peval said quietly. “I don’t know how to tell him.”

 

“Okay.” Tom rubbed a hand over his face. “Well, it’d probably take me a couple of weeks to get my hands on the application, then a few months for the Federation to process it. We’d need to find you a place to live, so you can establish residency.”

 

“Any of the deep space stations would work. I’ve already started looking into them,” Peval said, a gleam of hope in his eyes.

 

“No, I’d want you on Earth or Mars. Or near Bajor. We have friends on those planets, people who could check in on you from time to time.”

 

“So… yes?” Peval asked tentatively.

 

“Well, I don’t have a problem with it. Aside from the obvious.” Tom gave him a shaky smile. “We’d miss you.”

 

“I have to do this, Tom.”

 

“I know,” Tom said. “God, do I ever. I’ll talk to Dad for you, and we’ll go from there.”

 

****

 

Tom had learned, from past experience, that it was better to face difficult discussions with Chakotay head-on rather than put them off. Chakotay didn’t appreciate information being kept from him, even if the reasons for that were perfectly logical. Like how he might prefer to spend the next three weeks focusing on the negotiations without having Peval’s impending departure hanging over him.

 

He put it off for a day, but Chakotay didn’t need to know that. Tom spent that time doing his own research, and found that what Peval had told him was solid. It would take anywhere from a few weeks to a few months for his application to cross the border to be approved, given his reasons. He would then need a year to establish residency and, from there, citizenship. He could only apply to the Academy after he was legally a citizen. Dual citizenship didn’t exist between their two governments, so Peval would need to renounce the Cardassian Union and resign himself to yet another lengthy process just to obtain permission to cross the border again should he ever want to visit Dorvan.

 

It could be years before they saw one another again, if these negotiations fell through. Tom felt ill at the thought, and he’d only known Peval for four years.

 

He was pulled out of his ruminations early the next morning by the wailing of his hand terminal. Chakotay was long gone for the day, and Peval was still asleep. Tom checked the device and saw that it was an urgent medical matter. He scribbled a note for Peval and left the house.

 

Eight hours later, he had welcomed the settlement’s newest resident into the world. There were no complications, as he had initially feared when he first got the message. It was just a long, difficult birth, but mother and child had come out of it just fine in the end.

 

The administration building was on the way home, and Tom stopped in. He had to give the new baby’s information to Tamati to enter into the database anyway, and it was an excuse to get out of the heat for a little bit.

 

An excuse to see Chakotay, too. Time to bite the bullet.

 

Tamati was in his office. The shades were drawn, and his formal robes were hanging in a corner. It was as casual as Tom had ever seen him in public. He wore a simple brown tunic over a red shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, his only concession to the heat.

 

The light in the room was dim and unforgiving. Tamati’s skin looked waxen, the bones of his face too prominent.

 

“Afternoon.” Tom rapped on the doorframe. Tamati looked up. “They actually give you all breaks around here?”

 

“So they tell me.” Tamati pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned back in his chair. “We reconvene again in an hour. I have three bonding ceremonies in the coming week to prepare, so I’m trying to make good use of the time.”

 

Tom could think of better ways for Tamati to spend his little downtime, but wisely refrained from saying so. He held up his PADD and said, “I have a birth for you to enter.”

 

“Moriah had her baby?”

 

“Yeah, finally. Here.” Tom handed over the PADD and Tamati entered the information into his computer. “Chakotay in his office?”

 

“Yes, though I would suggest steering clear of him for a time.”

 

“Oh?” Tom picked up the PADD and slid it back into his pocket. Chakotay was the council’s newest and most reluctant minister. He had only taken the position six months ago, in the wake of both Ephram’s passing and the decision to expand the council from seven ministers to nine. Chakotay had been serving as a de facto minister for so long that he had been an automatic choice. He was often torn between fear of failing his people again and anger at being forced into a position he didn’t think he could possibly serve well. On top of all that, he was desperate to do right by his people. It made for some very tense nights at their house, though Tom was mostly getting used to it. He knew how to diffuse Chakotay, most days. “He was saying something about seating arrangements the other night.”

 

“If that was our only problem, I would be delighted.” Tamati rested his head against the back of his chair. Truth be told, he looked exhausted. Worse than Chakotay did most nights. “Now we are in disagreement over the gifts.”

  
“Gifts?” Tom echoed.

 

“Yes. It’s customary for us to offer gifts to visitors.”

 

“You didn’t get me a gift when I first came to Dorvan. Should I be offended?”

 

Tamati glared at him through narrowed eyes. He knew better than to rise to the bait, and said, “It is doubly important now that we choose an appropriate gift, one that can be offered to both delegations and will be seen as an offering of peace and good faith. There is much disagreement over precisely what that gift should be.”

 

“Sounds fascinating.”

 

“It’s incredibly dull,” Tamati said wearily. “We should be planning for the negotiations themselves.”

 

Tom knew better than to ask if he was all right, so instead he asked, “How are your energy levels?”

 

“No worse.”

 

“Pain?”

 

“About the same.” Tamati’s voice was tightly controlled. His patience was wearing thin.

 

“You might want to move a cot in here,” Tom said. “Catch a nap during breaks, if you can. Even if you just lay down for a bit, it will help tremendously.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tamati said, a note of warning in his voice now. Tom let it be.

 

He was halfway to the door again when he thought of something. “Tamati?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“Am I Peval’s parent? In the eyes of the government, I mean. I never thought to ask at the time, but I’m wondering if the bonding ceremony gave me those rights.”

 

“No, that’s a separate process,” Tamati said. “Why?”

 

“I was just curious. See you around.”

 

Chakotay was indeed in his office. Tom didn’t even need to knock on the doorframe to announce his presence. Chakotay had obviously heard him approach.

 

“Hey.”

 

Chakotay gave him a distracted smile. “Hi. What are you doing here?”

 

“I was in the area. Moriah had her baby. Lunch?”

 

Chakotay glanced at his computer. “It’s four o’clock.”

 

“Early dinner, then.”

 

There was a replicator in one of the lounges, which was empty this time of day.

 

“So what is it that’s so important it can’t wait until after these negotiations are over?” Chakotay asked as he nursed a mug of tea.

 

Tom shot him a glare. “Sorry, am I not supposed to speak to you for the next three weeks?”

 

Chakotay immediately looked contrite. “Sorry. Long day.”

 

“To answer your question, no, I’m not sure this can actually wait. I had a talk with Peval last night.” Tom drew a deep breath, then plunged forth. “He wants to go to the Academy.”

 

“And if these negotiations go well, he will,” Chakotay said. “Is that all?”

 

Tom shook his head. “No, Chakotay. I mean that he wants to go to the Academy no matter what. Even if it means renouncing his Cardassian citizenship and becoming a permanent resident of the Federation. He wants me to see if I can get a Federation citizenship application for him.”

 

“Obviously, you told him no.”

 

“Obviously, I didn’t, which is why I’m here talking about it now,” Tom said heatedly.

 

“Tom, we have delegations from Cardassia and the Federation meeting here in four days,” Chakotay said. “The fate of this entire planet rests on these negotiations going well. I don’t have time to entertain Peval’s flights of fancy right now!”

 

“Flights of - you were barely older than he is now when you left for Starfleet!”

 

“Yes, and I never saw my father again!” Chakotay got up abruptly. “He wants to go so badly, then you sign the paperwork. I won’t be part of this.”

 

Tom’s jaw clenched. Peval might be an adult in the eyes of the Union, but he would have to wait two more years to be considered one in the Federation. “I can’t. I’m not his father. _Or_ his legal guardian. I checked with Tamati. The bonding ceremony doesn’t automatically give me the same rights you have over him. I can’t sign that paperwork. I’m nothing to him.”

 

“You’re not -” Chakotay broke off, shaking his head. “You’re not nothing to him. It’s just -”

 

“You’re his father, and I’m not,” Tom finished for him bitterly.

 

“I think we’ve gotten off-topic here,” Chakotay said. He rubbed his temples. “Peval can go to the Academy if we are returned to the Federation. If we remain with the Union, then he stays here. That’s all there is to it, Tom. Look, I have to go. We have a lot to do before the delegations arrive.”

 

He got up from his seat, picking up his mug of tea and Tom’s empty plate.

 

“You’ll talk to him, then,” Tom said. “It’s your decision, you should be the one to tell him.”

 

“Yes, fine,” Chakotay sighed. “I’ll talk to him. I really do need to go now, Tom.”

 

He stooped to kiss Tom on the cheek, added, “Don’t wait up for me tonight,” and left the lounge.


	2. Chapter 2

The night before the delegations were set to arrive, the council worked into the early hours of the morning. Chakotay didn’t even bother going home when they were finished. He caught four hours of sleep on the cot in his office and showered in one of the building’s bathrooms. He kept a spare set of clothes in his office for occasions like these, and his robes always remained here. Two cups of tea after that, he was ready to face the day.

 

Or as ready as he would ever be.

 

Tamati’s office was in the same hallway as his own. On his way to join the rest of the council outside at the beam-down site, Chakotay stuck his head in Tamati’s doorway.

 

“You ready?” he asked.

 

Of them all, Tamati was the only one who went home the night before. Chakotay didn’t understand the point of it when it was only for a few hours, but Tamati had been adamant. He looked as though he had slept even less than Chakotay. He looked up from the sash he was attempting to tie across his robes.

 

“Come over here and make yourself useful.”

 

Chakotay crossed the room and took the sash from Tamati’s hands - which, he noted with surprise, were shaking.

 

“Are you nervous?” he asked in disbelief. He straightened the sash so that it lay properly across Tamati’s back and chest, then secured it.

 

“No,” Tamati bit out. Chakotay knew by that tone of voice that it was unwise to press him further. Tamati added tightly, “Thank you.”

 

“You’re welcome. The rest of the council is gathering out front. Ready?”

 

“As we’ll ever be,” Tamati said, and Chakotay had to agree with him there. “I had an interesting discussion with your husband the other day.”

 

“Oh?” With a sinking feeling, Chakotay saw where this was going. Trust Tom to spill the news to the entire settlement before coming to him.

 

“He wanted to know if he was as much Peval’s legal guardian as you are.”

 

There was half a question in Tamati’s words. Chakotay sighed.

 

“Peval wants to go to the Academy, even if that means renouncing Cardassian citizenship and moving across the border permanently.”

 

“Ah.” It was all coming together for Tamati now. “He can’t sign the necessary papers for Peval.”

 

“No.” Thank the Spirits, Chakotay refrained from saying.

 

“And you won’t.”

 

“No.”

 

“Interesting.”

 

The rest of the council was already gathered outside. Chakotay took his usual place by Kiri; Tamati, by Sara.

 

At precisely eight o’clock, six shimmering beams of light materialized out of thin air. When they faded, three Cardassians and three Starfleet officers stood before the council.

 

“Welcome to Dorvan V,” Kiri said. She stepped forward, clasped her hands before her, and gave a short bow. “I am Kiri.”

 

The head of the Cardassian delegation stepped forward. “I am Gul Mikera. This is Glinn Gabor and Glinn Lokul.”

 

Chakotay barely heard her over the roaring in his ears. He was staring at the Starfleet officers who comprised the Federation delegation.

 

“Kathryn Janeway, of the starship _Voyager_.” Janeway introduced the two officers who accompanied her. “Commander Tuvok and Commander K’vec. It’s an honor to be here, Minister.”

 

“Captain Janeway,” Mikera said, putting out her hand for Janeway to shake. “We have heard much about you and your ship.”

 

“Thank you for agreeing to these negotiations. The Federation Council sends its regards.” Janeway turned back to Kiri. “Where would you like to begin?”

 

“We thought that a tour of the settlement would be best,” Kiri said, and Janeway nodded.

 

“Lead the way.”

 

For the most part, the colonists went about their daily business as though nothing out of the ordinary was happening. With the temperature the hottest it had been all week, few people were out in the streets. Those who were greeted the delegations politely, but said nothing beyond that. They all understood that the time to voice their viewpoints would be in the open forum that afternoon.

 

“You have two thousand people living in this settlement?” Mikera asked as they strolled along.

 

“Yes, and a ruling council of nine ministers,” Kiri said.

 

“How do you support your population?”

 

Kiri explained their farming and water collection practices, and how they had redundancies in place for times of hardship. The Cardassians wanted to know about the educational system, and were taken on a tour of the small school.

 

Lunch was served in the administrative building, whose climate controls had finally been restored late last night. It was still warm in the great hall, but no longer stifling.

 

It was here that Chakotay finally had a moment to speak to Janeway. He poured two drinks, handed her one, and said, “How many strings had to be pulled to assign you to this?”

 

“None,” she said with a smile. “The Federation Council approached me, in fact. Apparently I have the most experience, as well as the least biased crew.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“We spent the entirety of the Dominion War on the other side of the galaxy. We weren’t contaminated by local politics, as the admirals put it.”

 

“Half your crew was Maquis,” Chakotay said. “I wouldn’t exactly call us unbiased.”

 

“Apparently that fact was lost on the Council,” Janeway said.

 

“Most experience?”

 

“Well,” Janeway said, “we made first contact with dozens of new species and negotiated our way out of more than a handful of volatile situations. If I didn’t know any better, Mr. Chakotay, I would think you were displeased to see me.”

 

“No,” Chakotay said hastily. “Not at all. It just caught me off-guard, that’s all. We’ve been actively planning these negotiations for months. I’ve been immersed in every detail from the meals to the seating arrangements to arranging the open forum. Yet I had no idea the Federation would send a delegation full of my old crewmates. It’s good to see you, Kathryn.”

 

She squeezed his arm. “And you, Chakotay.”

 

They sat down. The two delegations were mixed in with the ruling council at the table. No members of the three groups sat clustered together.

 

“How’s Tom?” Janeway asked.

 

Despite the pang of their recent argument, Chakotay was able to give her a genuine smile. “Fine. Wonderful, actually. He’s thriving here.”

 

“You were afraid he wouldn’t?”

 

“I was concerned,” Chakotay admitted. “As you’ve no doubt noticed, we have a lack of, well, anything that flies. But he’s made himself useful elsewhere. He’s become our de facto doctor.”

 

“The Doctor would love to hear that,” Janeway said. “I’ll have to tell him.”

 

“Is he on board?”

 

“No, he’s on Jupiter Station, last time I heard from him,” she said. “Seven’s on Earth with her aunt, and so is Icheb. Harry and B’Elanna are on _Voyager_ , though. So is Ayala. A handful of the others as well. But for the most part we have a whole new crew. It’s odd to walk the corridors and see unfamiliar faces. It’s almost too disconcerting. I’ve thought about requesting a transfer.”

 

“You couldn’t leave _Voyager_ ,” Chakotay finished for her. He could understand that. The idea was unthinkable even to him.

 

“No,” Janeway said, her voice bittersweet. “I couldn’t.”

 

****

 

Tom got Chaya’s message while he was in the middle of repairing some tiles on the roof of the house, so was glad of the distraction. Her home was on the opposite end of the settlement, and it was a long, sticky walk. At least there was refuge to be found at the end of it.

 

“You probably don’t want to hug me,” he greeted when she opened the door. He stepped gratefully into the cool of the foyer.

 

“Don’t be silly,” Chaya said, and she hugged him heedless of the sweat that clung to his skin. “Come in, I’ll get you some water.”

 

“Hi, Uncle Tom!” Hanna called to him cheerfully from the sofa in the living room.

 

“Hi, baby girl,” he said with a smile. “What are you reading?”

 

She held up her book. “Peval gave it to me!”

 

“That was nice of him.” Tom accepted the glass of water from Chaya. “Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.”

 

“Actually, you are,” Chaya said. “Our replicator’s gone out. Would you be able to take a look at it?”

 

Most homes in the settlement weren’t equipped with replicators by choice. The colonists, Chakotay included, preferred to make their meals. Chaya was an exception. She hadn’t inherited the same love for cooking that her brother did, nor his talent for it.

 

“Sure thing,” Tom said. He held up his equipment bag. “I came prepared.”

 

It was no small feat. The replicator had been built into the wall, so Tom had to remove several wooden panels in order to access it. It was an old piece of equipment - reliable, but large. It was part of a family of replicators that had been popular forty years ago. Tom had to put his entire upper body inside the wall to get to the innards of the device. Chaya stood by to hand him tools.

 

“How do you think it’s going?” she asked at last.

 

“For my sake, I hope it’s going well,” Tom said distractedly. He threw her a sidelong glance. “For yours as well, actually.”

 

Chaya rolled her eyes. “Tom, for the last time -”

 

“There’s nothing going on between you and Minister Apeli,” Tom finished for her. “Right. Which is why you’re always there with him at the social functions.”

 

“We’re friends. I’ve known him my whole life.”

 

“That would carry a little more weight if you lived somewhere other than a town of only two thousand people.” Tom dislodged the object and found himself holding a doll. He blinked at it, then turned around. “Hanna-bean, is this yours?”

 

“You found her!” Hanna jumped off the sofa and raced over to him.

 

“Hanna, _what_ have I told you about putting things in the replicator?” Chaya asked in exasperation. “How long has that been in there?”

 

Hanna shrugged. “I dunno.”

 

Chaya sighed and passed a hand over her face. “Tell Uncle Tom thank you.”

 

“Thank you!” Hanna threw her arms around his legs, then hurried off to her room.

 

“Stop it,” Chaya said.

 

Tom looked at her. “What?”

 

“You’ve gone all wistful. Stop it.” She poked her finger at him. “This age is not _nearly_ as much fun as you think it is.”

 

Tom held his hands up. “I didn’t say anything!”

 

“You were thinking it.” She sighed. “You’ve been looking like that more and more lately. What’s going on?”

 

“Nothing.” Tom closed up the equipment kit and stored it away again. “Peval’s an adult now, technically. It’s still sinking in.”

 

“He’s got some time to go before he’s ready to move into a house on his own. You have a few years yet, no matter what the age of maturity in the Union is.”

 

“See, the thing is, he doesn’t want that.” Tom gnawed on his bottom lip for a moment, drew a deep breath, and said, “He wants to go to Starfleet Academy.”

 

Chaya gave a short laugh. “Of course he does. Everyone knows that about him. But it’s impossible.”

 

“Not really.” Tom explained Peval’s plan.

 

“Chakotay wouldn’t agree to that,” Chaya said. Tom was taken aback.

 

“Neither would you, it sounds like,” he said.

 

“I wouldn’t.”

 

“Chakotay left home at that age.”

 

“Yes, he did. Look how well that worked out for him.”

 

Tom knew the flare of shock and anger he felt in his chest also showed in his face, because her expression immediately softened.

 

“That wasn’t right. I’m sorry,” she said. “All I meant was, Chakotay’s worked hard to make sure that Peval’s childhood is different from his own. Our father was a wonderful man, but there was always a disconnect between them. That doesn’t exist between Peval and Chakotay. He went through a lot between Dorvan and Starfleet, and he doesn’t want Peval to ever experience that.”

 

She sighed. “Consider this as well: he almost lost Peval once. He’s not going to let that happen again.”

 

Tom opened his mouth to argue the point, but stopped himself before any words came out. It wasn’t just Chakotay now who was against this plan of Peval’s, but Chaya as well. Two of the best parents Tom knew. There had to be something that he was missing, something he didn’t understand because he had only walked onto the stage four years ago. He wasn’t a parent, he was a bystander. How could he stand here and claim that he knew better than Chakotay?

 

“Peval will get over it,” Chaya said into the pronounced silence. “He may not understand it now, but give it time. He will come to terms with it. And he’ll thrive here, Tom. This is where he _belongs_.”

 

Then again, Tom mused on his walk home, how could any of them claim they knew better than Peval?

 

****

 

The open forum was grueling. Chakotay had a headache by the time they finished the first hour, and it stretched on for five more. But they were able to hear the concerns of all the colonists who showed up, all two hundred of them, and that made the whole endeavor worth it. It might not have been what he wanted to hear, but everyone who wanted it had their say.

 

Tamati had kept a small tally on his PADD. If his numbers were indicative of the rest of the settlement, nearly eighty percent of them favored being returned to Federation rule. The minority voices advocated either for complete independence from both governments or to remain under Cardassian rule. It was still a sizable number of people.

 

There was a short break before the welcome dinner. The two delegations returned to their respective ships to change. The council did the same. When he got home, the first thing Chakotay did was collapse on their bed.

 

“That bad?” Tom was in the bathroom, toweling off after a shower. He spoke to Chakotay through the open door. “You look like something Kiri’s dog dragged in.”

 

“That’s about how I feel, too,” Chakotay said.

 

Tom came into the bedroom, bare-chested and wearing a loose pair of cotton pants. “How did it go?”

 

Chakotay tangled their fingers together, then tugged Tom down next to him on the bed.

 

“I don’t even know where to start,” he sighed. “Actually, no, I do. The Federation delegation? Kathryn’s heading it up.”

 

Tom stared at him. “What?”

 

“Yeah, _Voyager_ ’s in orbit. Kathryn and Tuvok are part of the delegation, so they’re going to be part of the negotiations. Everyone else has to stay on the ship, but they’re here. Harry and B’Elanna and Ayala. The Doctor and Seven are back in Federation space, but they send their regards.”

 

Tom blew out a slow breath between his teeth. It was hard to tell in the late-afternoon light, but Chakotay thought that his eyes might have been overbright. “They’ll be at the dinner tonight?”

 

“Kathryn and Tuvok will. They’re looking forward to seeing you. Well, Kathryn is. Who can tell with Tuvok?” Chakotay closed his eyes. Tom’s fingers found their way into his hair, and he let out a slow sigh. “We had two hundred people turn out for the open forum.”

 

“Jesus.”

 

“Most favored us being handed back over to the Federation. Old man Behar advocated for independence, which we knew he would. Several turned out to argue for us staying with the Union.”

 

“You expected that,” Tom said. His soothing fingers were lulling Chakotay into a doze, and he reluctantly pulled Tom’s hand from his head and held it instead.

 

“I wasn’t expecting this many in favor of it,” Chakotay admitted reluctantly. “I wasn’t expecting so many of them to be families of Cardassian orphans.”

 

“What are their reasons?”

 

“They don’t want to cut their children off from their homeworld or their people.”

 

“The Cardassians abandoned those children.”

 

“I know,” Chakotay said. “The families also worry about how their children will fare in the Federation. They would be outsiders.”

 

Tom went still. “Is that what you fear for Peval?”

 

Chakotay opened his eyes and checked the time. “Speaking of, I need to go talk to him.”

 

“Now?”

 

“Is there any such thing as a good time to talk to him about this?” Chakotay asked. “I’m not going to be around much these next few weeks. I don’t know when else I’d do it. Besides, he’s about to meet Starfleet officers for the first time. I don’t want him going in there with his hopes up.”

 

“Yeah, what a terrible thing that would be.” Tom pushed himself to his feet. “I have to go get ready anyway.”

 

Peval’s door was open halfway. Chakotay rapped his knuckles on the doorframe and Peval looked around.

 

“Hi, there,” Chakotay said. “You ready?”

 

“I think so.” Peval held out his arms, allowing Chakotay to inspect his outfit.

 

“Close,” Chakotay said with a smile. He adjusted the sash so that it lay properly across Peval’s chest. “There. Better. You ready for this?”

 

“No.” Peval shook his head and gave Chakotay a sheepish smile. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m nervous, but I am.”

 

“It’s all right,” Chakotay said. “These are your people that you’re meeting for the first time. It’s okay to be -”

 

“They’re not my people,” Peval interrupted. “They never have been.”

 

“You’re right,” Chakotay said quietly. “I’m sorry, Peval. That was careless of me. But there’s nothing to be worried about. You don’t have to actually do anything. It’s just a nice dinner, and then we’ll go home.”

 

He sat down on the bed and gestured for Peval to sit next to him. “Let’s talk for a moment. Tom told me about the conversation you two had.”

 

“That was fast.” Peval scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I - uh. I was going to bring it up later…”

 

“Tom seems to think it was a time-sensitive issue,” Chakotay said. “And I suppose that he’s right. You’ve got this all planned out, haven’t you?”

 

Peval nodded. “I’d put in the application right away. If it’s approved, I’ll catch a ride into Federation space with one of the medical transports, like Tom did four years ago. I had planned to live on one of the space stations, but then Tom said that he’d rather I live -”

 

“It’s not happening, Peval,” Chakotay broke in. Peval went very still beside him. “I’m sorry. Unless Dorvan is handed over to the Federation as a result of these negotiations, you aren’t going to the Academy.”

 

“There’s always a chance,” Peval said after a moment. “I looked into it. If I’m granted a temporary visa, I can work and live within Federation territory. After a year -”

 

“Peval,” Chakotay broke in gently. “I mean that I won’t be signing those papers for you. I’m sorry.”

 

“Why not?” Peval asked.

 

“Because you are very young,” Chakotay said. “Far too young to know what you want. I don’t think you fully understand what it means. If you were to succeed and become a Federation citizen -”

 

“I’d no longer be a citizen of the Union, and I wouldn’t see you and Tom again for a very long time,” Peval finished for him. “I know what’s at stake, Dad.”

 

“I’m not sure that you do.”

 

“Well, let me find out for myself, then!” Peval said heatedly. He stood up. “You were my age when you left home.”

 

“I just don’t want you doing anything that you will end up regretting for the rest of your life.”

 

“Do _you_ regret it?”

 

Chakotay opened his mouth, but couldn’t think of a thing to say. Peval stood there, glaring at him, his hands balled into fists.

 

“Sometimes,” Chakotay said softly. Peval deflated slightly, anger replaced by shock. “I can’t go back in time and make amends, so I do this instead. I serve my people as best as I can, knowing that it won’t make things right. But maybe it will make a difference.”

 

He stood. Peval wouldn’t meet his eyes.

 

“I’m proud of you, you know.” Chakotay squeezed his shoulder.

 

“Yeah.” Peval pulled out of his grip. “We should go.”

 

Dinner that night was held in the great hall of the administrative building. It was an informal gathering, in that talk of the negotiations was kept to a minimum. It was a chance for the delegations to talk to one another informally, and to also speak with the ruling council and their families. Between the open forum earlier that day and this dinner, the delegations were being given a good sense of the people who lived out here on the fringes, and what life was like for them. It was Chakotay’s hope that this, more than anything else, would sway the Cardassian delegation to recommend to the Detapa Council that Dorvan be returned to the Federation. They could say only so much with words.

 

The long table had been extended to accommodate twenty place settings. Peval sat sandwiched between Chakotay and Tom, who spent most of the meal deep in conversation with Janeway sitting beside him and Tuvok across the table. Chakotay listened to their conversation more than he contributed, because he spent most of his time scanning the table and observing everyone else.

 

Tamati asked Chakotay to pass him a jug of wine, and said in an undertone, “What’s with the Glinn?”

 

Chakotay had noticed it as well, how Glinn Lokul’s gaze kept flicking to him before sliding away. It had been happening all night.

 

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

 

“Do you recognize him?”

 

“No.”

 

Tamati poured a glass of wine, then put the jug back. “He barely said a word all afternoon.”

 

“Maybe he just doesn’t like to talk, Tamati.” Anaru was a gentle soul, suspicious of no one. Forgiving and understanding almost to a fault, Tamati once said. He patted Tamati’s hand twice before returning to his meal.

 

Tamati snorted. “A Cardassian who doesn’t like to talk? And a Glinn, no less. No, that’s not what that is.”

 

“Maybe Chakotay’s Maquis cell had a run-in with Lokul years ago,” Anaru offered.  

 

Chakotay felt a little queasy at the thought of that. He hadn’t considered that living in the Union meant that one day he might encounter Cardassians who he had once fought as a member of the Maquis. Maybe even Cardassians whose family members he had killed. Most of those engagements were anonymous, his victims nameless and faceless. He wouldn’t know the survivors, but they might know him.

 

The meal finished. Dishes were cleared, more alcohol was brought out. Chakotay could feel the wine starting to go to his head, and paced himself with water. Peval was distant, but civil. No one would notice his reservation except Chakotay, and maybe Tom. He thoroughly charmed Janeway, so much so that Tom traded seats with him so he could talk more easily with her.

 

“When can you get out of here?” Tom asked, laying a hand on Chakotay’s thigh. Chakotay covered it with his own.

 

“I could probably leave once dessert is done. It wouldn’t look right to bow out this early.”

 

“You could use the rest,” Tom said.

 

“I’ll rest when this is all over,” Chakotay said, trying to sound reassuring. “I promise. Until then, you and Anaru will just have to put up with being political widowers.”

 

Anaru choked on his wine. Tamati patted him on the back and passed him a glass of water.

 

“Don’t encourage him,” Tamati told Anaru dryly. “He thinks he’s funny.”

 

An hour after dinner finished, Chakotay could tell that Peval was getting restless. Tom, plied with drink and food, had grown quiet, content to watch the other conversations. He was almost leaning against Chakotay, who could feel the heat of Tom’s body all along his side and thigh. He put an arm around Tom’s shoulders and said into his ear, “Take Peval home after this. We just have the gift exchange to get through. I’ll stay on later, until the delegations start to leave.”

 

And then, because no one was paying them any mind and he could, he nipped at the sensitive skin just behind Tom’s ear and drew away.

 

“No more wine for you,” Tom muttered. A flush had crept up the back of his neck.

 

The gift exchange went smoothly, for all they had fretted over it in the months leading up to this moment. The Federation and Cardassian delegations received their gifts warmly, without any sign of offense, and the ruling council let out an inward sigh of relief.

 

“I would like to add something,” Lokul said suddenly, just as the various conversations had resumed. He got to his feet. A crackling tension surged through the air, and Chakotay recoiled from it as though it had been a physical blow. Most everyone around them quieted, though a few conversations continued, oblivious.

 

“Yes, Glinn?” Kiri asked.

 

“You have welcomed us as guests and presented us with tokens of your hospitality,” Lokul said. “In return, the Detapa Council would like to offer their own tokens of appreciation.”

 

Gabor and Mikera shared a look. Mikera said, “Perhaps it would be best if we discussed this tomorrow during -”

 

“I will say it now,” Lokul said without looking at her.

 

“Lokul -” Mikera put a hand on his arm, but he pulled away.

 

“We would like you to accept this as an offering of good faith.” He pulled a box out of his pocket and handed it, not to Chakotay, but to Peval.

 

The last remaining conversations died away. Mikera’s hand hung, suspended, in the air.

 

“Go on,” Lokul said gently. The hairs on the back of Chakotay’s neck stood on end. “Open it.”

 

Peval looked uncertain. He turned to Chakotay, but Lokul said sharply, “No. It’s for you.”

 

Chakotay gave Peval a tiny nod, even though what he wanted to do instead was snatch the box from the boy’s hands and throw it away, diplomacy be damned. A terrible sense of foreboding washed over him. He chanced a look at Tom, and saw his own trepidation mirrored in his husband’s eyes.

 

Peval slid the cover off the small box. He stared blankly at its contents.

 

“I’m sorry, sir,” he said finally, “but I don’t understand.”

 

Chakotay looked over his shoulder. There was a small gold bracelet nestled in the box, as delicate as the wrist that must have worn it.

 

“Of course you don’t. You’re too young to remember.” Lokul’s eyes were sad. “It was your mother’s.”

 

The world shifted under Chakotay. He saw, with dizzying clarity, what was about to happen. Tom’s face drained of color. He reached out and took the box carefully from Peval’s hands, as though that alone was enough to stop what was coming.

 

“You’ve grown so much,” Lokul said softly. “And you look just like her. It’s uncanny…”

 

He trailed off, lost in his own reminiscing.

 

“What?” Peval asked, his voice unsteady. “I don’t understand.”

 

“He’s your father,” Chakotay managed. All eyes swiveled to him. “Peval, this is your biological father.”

 

“We have located the family members of each of the orphans left behind on the settlement when we withdrew,” Lokul said to the room at large. “It was intolerable, what we did, but we are prepared to make amends. The families are very eager to meet them.”

 

“As a sign of good faith,” Kiri repeated, and Lokul nodded.

 

“Thank you,” Peval said faintly, “for the gift.”

 

Lokul inclined his head. “I welcome the chance to get to know you.”

 

Peval said mechanically, “Yes. As do I. Excuse me.”

 

He strode from the room. Chakotay caught Tom’s eye and tilted his head in Peval’s direction. Tom went after him, leaving only a stunned silence in his wake.


	3. Chapter 3

Peval didn’t make it inside the house. When Tom caught up to him fifteen minutes later, he was doubled-over on his hands and knees, retching into the garden. He must have run at a flat-out sprint the entire way home. He was shaking and drenched in sweat.

 

“Hey.” Tom swept Peval’s hair off his forehead and held it back. He rubbed his other hand down Peval’s spine. “Shh, easy. It’s okay. I know, that was awful of him to do. He shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that.”

 

When the heaves finally stopped, Tom helped him into the house. He ran a lukewarm shower and put Peval under the spray, clothes and all, until his body temperature cooled to a safe level. Peval then changed into clean clothes and washed out his mouth while Tom sent a quick message to Chakotay’s hand terminal letting him know they made it home without incident. When Tom checked on Peval again, he was sitting on the floor of the bathroom, head between his knees.

 

Tom sat down next to him and gathered Peval into his arms.

 

“The age of majority is sixteen on Cardassia,” he said softly. “Most of the Cardassian children in this settlement are that old, including you. They can’t force you to go with him.”

 

“I don’t want to know him.” Peval’s voice was muffled against Tom’s chest. “I don’t want to go to the meeting with the other families.”

 

Tom’s heart seized.

 

“You have to,” he said quietly, the words like ash in his mouth. “I’m sorry, Peval, but you need to go. The Cardassians will be expecting all the children to be there…”

 

He trailed off. Peval shuddered, and Tom said nothing more while he wept.

 

****

 

Chakotay couldn’t get out of the great hall fast enough. As it was, the remainder of dessert took another hour. Lokul seemed to know better than to approach Chakotay, but he kept stealing glances at him all night.

 

When the gathering officially broke up, it was near midnight. Most members of the two delegations lingered, however, sipping tea or coffee while they chatted. Chakotay caught Kiri’s gaze, and she gave him a small nod. He gave his farewells and joined the small knot of people heading out of the building to return to their respective ships.

 

Tom was waiting up for him at home. He took one look at Chakotay’s face and said, “Hell.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Why didn’t we see this coming?” Tom rubbed a hand across his face. “It’s just like Cardassians, to spring something like this on us without any warning. They _love_ their dramatics. Did Lokul say anything else to you?”

 

Chakotay shook his head. “Is he awake?”

 

“He went to bed an hour ago. Probably.” Tom touched his arm and lowered his voice. “He won’t ask you himself, but I don’t suppose - given what’s happened, is there any way he can skip that meeting?”

 

Chakotay swallowed hard. “No.”

 

“Yeah, okay.” Tom nodded. “You’re right. It - wouldn’t look right.”

 

There were no lights on in Peval’s room that Chakotay could see. He rapped on the door lightly with his knuckles.

 

“Val, it’s me,” he said softly. “Can I come in?”

 

“Yeah,” Peval said.

 

He was sitting on his bed, staring out at the moonless night.

 

“You knew he was alive.” It wasn’t a question.

 

Chakotay sat down next to him. “The only thing I knew for sure was that he existed. I never knew either of your parents. I didn’t even know your father’s name until today. Rumor held that they both went to Cardassia when the war ended, and that they both died there.”

 

“So he might not be my father?” There was a note of hope in Peval’s voice.

 

“I don’t know. Tom will need to run a DNA scan to be sure.” Chakotay swallowed hard. “Probably he is. You look like him. And this.” He pushed Peval’s right sleeve up past his wrist, then ran his thumb over the crescent-shaped birthmark on the sharp bone. “He has this as well.”

 

Peval pulled away, and it hurt just as much as when he’d stepped out of Chakotay’s grip on his shoulder earlier that day.

 

Chakotay shook his head. Had it really been that same day? He felt a sharp stab of regret. He should have put off the conversation about Starfleet. It could have waited until after the negotiations were over. Selfishly, he hadn’t wanted it hanging over his head that long while he had other things to deal with. Two life-altering blows in a matter of hours. He couldn’t even imagine what Peval was feeling right now.

 

“Do you think he really loved my mother?” Peval looked down at his hands and added cautiously, “Did she love him?”

 

Chakotay didn’t know what to say to that. It was a topic he had carefully avoided these past eleven years, or at least managed to talk his way around. Nearly every half-Cardassian child in the settlement was the product of assault. Each family dealt with this in their own fashion when the inevitable questions started. Chakotay had had it easier than most up until now - he didn’t even know who Peval’s mother had been, and honestly couldn’t answer most of the boy’s questions about his origins as a result.

 

“I don’t know,” he said helplessly. Tentatively, he added, “I could set up a meeting between the two of you, if you want. You have so many questions that I can’t answer, Peval. He might be able to.”

 

Peval shook his head. “I don’t want to talk to him. He might be my father, but he’s not my dad.”

 

That was about the best thing Chakotay had heard all day, though he tried to caution himself even as his heart swelled. Peval was smarting now. When he calmed down and had a little distance, maybe he would change his mind.

 

Chakotay resisted reaching out again for Peval. He did say, in a low voice, “I love you. So does Tom.”

 

“Yeah, I know.”

 

The house had cooled considerably since Chakotay had come home. He only noticed because he felt the ripple of a shiver go through Peval. His Cardassian physiology at work again. Like all the children, he had difficulty regulating his body temperature. It served him well during the sweltering days, but not so much at night.

 

“Come on, before you freeze,” Chakotay said, standing up and peeling back the blankets.

 

Peval gave him a look. “I’m not a little kid, Dad.”

 

“Humor me.”

 

Sighing, Peval slid under the blankets and allowed Chakotay to tuck them around his body. Chakotay ran a hand through his hair, a silent goodnight, and left the room.

 

****

 

The next two days felt as though they stretched on for a week.

 

The Cardassians met with the orphans and their families in clusters of four or five families. Each meeting lasted half the day. Chakotay made sure that his own meeting was at the end of the second day, with the last batch of families. It gave Peval some breathing room.

 

Lokul had consented to a DNA test, which showed that he was who he claimed to be. The confirmation shattered Peval’s last shred of hope that none of it was true, and he had withdrawn entirely. Tom told Chakotay that he spent most of those two days secluded in his room.

 

“It took me almost an hour to get him out. He’s scared to death,” Tom said quietly. They were standing in the hallway outside the council chambers with the final five families of Cardassian orphans, waiting for the delegation to call them in. Peval was a little ways away with a couple of his friends, talking little but laughing along with them at the appropriate points. Chakotay caught his eye, and Peval came over to them.

 

“Hey,” Chakotay said, putting an arm around his shoulders and pulling Peval to his side. “It’s going to be okay.”

 

“Yeah,” Peval said, unconvinced.

 

“There’s nothing he can do to you. We’ll be right there with you.”

 

It was a long, painful afternoon. Chakotay didn’t sit with the rest of the council this time, but with the families, and was subjected to the same questioning he had heard from the Cardassians for the past two days.

 

They wanted to know about everything, from the children’s schooling to what their home life was like. It was invasive, almost insulting, and there was nothing to be done about it but get through it. Cooperation was key. Bend over backwards for the Cardassians, and they might bend a little in return. Might even realize that they truly had no need for this tiny, rocky planet that had no value except to the people who lived there.

 

“And how long have you lived with your father?”

 

Chakotay’s wandering attention snapped back to the Cardassian delegation. Peval looked Mikera directly in the eyes and said, “Eleven years.”

 

“You’re sixteen now?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“So before that, you lived in the orphanage?”

 

“I don’t really remember much of it,” Peval said. “Except when my dad came to visit. I mean - he wasn’t my dad then, but I remember him. He helped out at the orphanage. He’d read us stories. Once he stayed with us for an entire night because there was a storm and we were scared.”

 

Chakotay had forgotten about that, and couldn’t believe that Peval remembered it.

 

“You are aware that your father is a former member of the Maquis,” Gabor said.

 

“Yes.”

 

“He committed numerous acts of violence against your people.”

 

Chakotay fully expected Peval to echo his protest of the night before, but all he said was, “Yes, I know.”

 

“That doesn’t concern you?”

 

“Why should it?” Peval countered, lifting his chin in defiance. “I looked up your files last night. All three of you served in the war and killed scores of humans. Yet here you are, in a room full of them. You seem to be able to restrain yourselves. He can do the same.”

 

Chakotay knew it was precisely the wrong reaction, but he felt his chest swell like it might burst. Somewhere off to his left, someone coughed. It might have been a stifled laugh. Chakotay’s eyes flicked to the council. None of them visibly reacted - except for Tamati, whose lips twitched in amusement before his expression smoothed over again.

 

It was an effort not to turn to look at Tom. He knew if he did, he would lose his composure entirely.

 

“Well stated, Mister Peval,” Kiri said solemnly. She looked at the Cardassian delegation. “While we understand your need to ensure that the Cardassian children of this settlement are being treated well, we _don’t_ appreciate insinuations that we would allow any of them to knowingly be neglected. Minister Chakotay has never made a secret of his past. We ask you to keep in mind that we are now in peacetime, and whatever we might have done out of desperation in wartime is unthinkable now.”

 

Gul Mikera nodded. “Point well-made, Minister. That was an unacceptable line of questioning, and we apologize. I move that we adjourn for the evening. Thank you for your time, everyone.”

 

The room cleared. Out in the corridor, Chakotay finally gave in and pulled Peval into a hug.

 

“Thank you,” he said thickly.

 

“Aw, come on, Dad,” Peval said. He drew away and punched Chakotay lightly on the shoulder, trying to lighten the mood. “I only said what everyone else was thinking.”

 

“You know who you get that smart mouth from.” Chakotay pointed at Tom.

 

“And I couldn’t be prouder,” Tom said, slinging an arm around Peval’s shoulders and ruffling his hair. “I’d say he’s earned himself an ale tonight.”

 

Peval’s eyes lit up. Even though they were no longer under Federation rule, Chakotay tried to enforce Federation law whenever possible. Including the legal drinking age of eighteen.

 

He’d been a little lax about that now that Tom lived with them.

 

“Yes, I think so,” he said with a laugh. “How about -”

 

“Minister Chakotay.”

 

The three of them turned to see Lokul approaching. Instinctively, Chakotay stepped in front of Peval. He realized belatedly how that looked, and then decided that he didn’t care.

 

“I was wondering if I could have a word,” Lokul said. He stopped in front of them. The rest of the corridor had cleared by now, and they were alone.

 

“Of course,” Chakotay said evenly.

 

“With Peval.”

 

“I’m afraid that’s not possible.”

 

“It will only take a moment.”

 

“Sorry, he’s just leaving,” Chakotay said evenly. “Peval, I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

“Dad…” Peval said softly, torn between wanting to help and needing to flee.

 

“Go home, Val. It’s all right,” Chakotay said. “We’ll be along in a bit.”

 

When Peval had gone, he turned his attention back to Lokul. “You and your colleagues are our guests on this planet, and I am grateful for the dialogue that has been opened between our governments. But that does not give you the right to repeatedly upset my son. And make no mistake, he _is_ my son. Your appearance here doesn’t change that fact.”

 

“I’m simply trying to get to know him -”

 

“He doesn’t want to know you,” Chakotay cut in. Lokul looked stricken, and he added, “Not yet. Maybe not ever. But this isn’t something you can force, and that’s exactly what you’re trying to do here.”

 

“Are you going to keep him from me?” Lokul asked.

 

“He’s sixteen years old. In the eyes of the Union, he can do as he likes. If he wants to visit Cardassia Prime and meet his blood family, then that’s what he’ll do,” Chakotay said, even though the words cut him. “But if he doesn’t want anything to do with you, then I won’t force him to get to know you. And you won’t do that, either.”

 

Lokul looked away. “I loved his mother very much, you know.”

 

“Obviously not enough to take her with you when you withdrew from the planet,” Tom said. Chakotay shot him a look. Tom shrugged.

 

“I would have taken her if I could. Her and Peval,” Lokul said sharply. “But it was - unwise.”

 

“She didn’t fare very well here, so I don’t see how going with you could have been worse,” Tom said.

 

“It simply isn’t _done_ ,” Lokul said vehemently. “She was human. She would not have been welcome on the homeworld -”

 

“If you despised humans so much, why not return this planet and its human inhabitants to the Federation?” Tom shot back.

 

“Tom -” Chakotay said, reaching out to him.

 

“We could have removed the humans from this planet by force and sent them back over the border,” Lokul said.

 

“And they should be grateful that you didn’t?” Tom asked.

 

“Yes!”

 

“This is getting us nowhere,” Chakotay broke in, blood pounding in his ears. He was _not_ going to let the tentative peace between the delegations and the colonists come apart like this. “Tom, enough. Lokul, Peval needs some space. I will speak to him on your behalf -”

 

“Chakotay, _for God’s sake_ -”

 

“ - but I can’t guarantee anything,” Chakotay finished, talking over Tom.

 

Lokul said nothing for a moment. Then, he slowly inclined his head.

 

“I’m grateful for that,” he said. “Thank you, Chakotay. And - would you tell him that his mother loved him very much? She would have come with me in a heartbeat if it was possible. I never wanted to leave her behind. To leave either of them behind.”

 

“He’ll say no such thing,” said a new voice, and they both whipped around. Tamati’s ice-cold eyes were fixed on Lokul. “You speak as though you knew Peval’s mother, but it’s obvious that you learned nothing about her in all your time together. Fortunately, I _did_ know Mira. I know that she never would have become involved with you had she not feared for her life, a fear you never bothered to dissuade her of. Everything you did to her was an assault, including Peval’s conception, and I will not allow you to continue to pretend otherwise. Now get out.”

 

Lokul spun on his heel and left the room without a backward glance. Chakotay looked at Tamati, then back at Tom, who looked equally stunned. He couldn’t think of a thing to say.

 

“That man,” Tamati said finally, breaking the silence, “is _repulsive_.”

 

“Did you need something?” Chakotay asked him when he could think of nothing else.

 

“Yes.” Tamati looked at Tom. “It’s stopped working.”

 

Tom shut his eyes for a moment. “Are you certain?”

 

“Well, no, _obviously_. I’m not the doctor here. But I trust your scans will verify it.” Tamati lifted his chin, pointedly not looking at Chakotay. “There is a doctor on the Federation ship. I’m ready to seek their intervention.”

 

“I’ll talk to them,” Tom said.

 

“What’s going on?” Chakotay asked.

 

Tom looked at Tamati. They shared a silent conversation, and then Tamati said, “I’m dying.”

 

The air left his chest. “ _What_?”

 

“I have Arnout syndrome. It’s far too advanced to hope for a cure, but up until now we have been able to control it. Slow its progression, at least.” Tamati looked at Tom, almost imploring. “I need _more time_.”

 

“I know.” Tom looked between them, then said, “I’ll speak to _Voyager_ ’s doctor first thing tomorrow. In the meantime, the two of you should probably talk.”

 

Chakotay didn’t hear the door close behind Tom over the pounding of blood in his ears.

 

“He couldn’t tell you,” Tamati said.

 

“I know.” Chakotay wished he could sit down. His knees felt as though they had been turned to water. “Have you told Anaru?”

 

Sorrow etched itself into the lines on Tamati’s face. “Three months ago. He didn’t take it well, not that I expected he would. He’s been begging me to resign.”

 

“How long -” Chakotay couldn’t finish the question.

 

“If Tom’s correct, I’m well overdue for my grave.” Tamati gave a wry twist of his lips. “Typical, isn’t it? I never manage to do what’s expected of me.”

 

“Tamati -”

 

“I won’t step down.” Tamati’s voice was firm. “I can’t. I’m the deciding vote on the council. My successor is Latori, who is firmly against these negotiations. Qura and Itzel change their minds with the wind; the moment they realize they’re on the losing side, they’ll switch their votes to side with Latori. The negotiations will come to an end, the delegations will leave, and we will never get another shot at this. Not until long after all of us are gone.”

 

“None of that is more important than your health -”

 

“I have no health left to speak of!” Tamati shot back. “I am dying, Chakotay, and no amount of rest and medication will fix that. I need to use what time I have left to _make a difference_. Or it will have all been for nothing, and I can’t accept that. I love Anaru dearly, but in this instance he is wrong. I need to be here, in these chambers, doing my work.”

 

“Robbing him of what little time you have left together, you mean.” Chakotay, caught off-guard by the sudden wave of grief, was careless with his words. Tamati paled, and his eyes flashed.

 

“You never used to be cruel,” he said in a low voice. “Stubborn, yes, but never malicious.”

 

Chakotay closed his eyes.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, opening his eyes to look at Tamati again. “I didn’t mean -”

 

“Yes, you did.”

 

“I didn’t,” Chakotay said. He added helplessly, “I’ve known you your whole life.”

 

It can’t end like this, he meant to say. After all they had been through, after everything that had been accomplished. They found each other and lost each other and found each other again, and were all the better for it now that they had Anaru and Tom. They had a common goal, a purpose, and two thousand people who looked to them for guidance. For survival.

 

_We have so much more to do_.

 

“I need to get home,” Tamati said.

 

Chakotay felt his throat close up. What little time Tamati and Anaru had together were stolen moments like these - late at night or at some unfathomable hour of the morning, before the demands of the day settled in. He thought about all the late nights the council had pulled over these past few months, how many meetings had been delayed and delayed and delayed, and felt ill. How much time had been taken from them?

 

“Tamati.”

 

Tamati turned. “Yes?”

 

“Mira was his mother?”

 

Tamati’s face was impassive. It was several long heartbeats before he finally said, “You didn’t know.”

 

“I thought it would be easier if I -” Chakotay broke off. He had never asked and no one had ever said. He thought it would be easier to look Peval in the eye if he didn’t know his mother; if he didn’t know which of his people had been brutalized in order for Peval to exist. It was cowardly. At least he acknowledged that much. “We played together as children.”

 

Tamati said, quietly, “I’m sorry.”

 

“What happened to her?”

 

“You’ve always told him that she died of illness during a harsh winter. I see no reason to let him believe otherwise.”

 

“Tamati.”

 

“She took her own life.” Tamati looked away, muscle pulsing in his jaw. “And I don’t see any reason for Peval to know that. Do you?”

 

“No.” Chakotay’s mouth was dry. He cleared his throat. “If you need anything…”

 

“I didn’t tell you because I wanted you to treat me any differently. I did it because no one’s known me as long as you have, and it hurts Tom to keep things from you.” Tamati looked away for a moment, then back at him. “It’s likely I won’t be able to keep this a secret from the council much longer anyway. I only ask that you let me keep up this fiction while I can. And whatever happens, we _cannot_ let it leak beyond these four walls. If Latori smells blood in the water…”

 

“No one will find out anything from me,” Chakotay assured him.

 

Back at home, he looked in on Peval - sound asleep. So was Tom, for that matter, which was a small relief. Chakotay didn’t want to talk about it, wasn’t even sure he could find the words right now for the complicated surge of emotions he was feeling. He crawled into bed and curled around Tom from behind. Sleep was a long time coming; by the time it finally claimed him, it was nearly dawn.


	4. Chapter 4

The first true day of negotiations dawned bright and hot, making it no different than any other day these past few months. With Chakotay gone for the rest of the day and no one in the settlement requiring his immediate attention, Tom decided to take care of some business in orbit.

 

He found Peval out back, sitting in the shade of a lone spindly tree with one of the neighbors’ dogs sprawled at his feet. He was scratching the dog’s belly. With his knees drawn up to his chest and his hair falling in his face, Tom thought it was reminiscent of Peval as a small child. Sometimes it pained him that he had missed those years, even though there was nothing that could have prevented that.

 

“Peval.” Tom put a hand on the back of his neck. “Hey. What are you doing out here?”

 

Peval lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Nothing.”

 

Tom decided not to press it. “Okay. Listen, I need to go up to _Voyager_ for a little bit. Do you want to come with me?”

 

Peval looked up at him, eyes bright. “Seriously?”

 

Tom laughed. “Yes, seriously. I cleared it with the Cardassian delegation already.”

 

The light in Peval’s eyes dimmed, and Tom instantly regretted bringing up what they had been trying so hard to ignore. He added, “I thought full transparency was better than sneaking you on board and having them find out about it later. Dad would kill me if that happened.”

 

“What did you tell them?”

 

“The truth. There’s someone on the colony who needs medical attention, and I wanted to seek help from the doctor on my ship,” Tom said, sounding almost wistful to his own ears. He gave a rueful laugh. “I guess I still think of her as mine, even after all this time. Anyway, I told them you’re coming along as my assistant. The Cardassians agreed and wanted to also extend the same invitation, if you would like to see their ship.”

 

Peval shook his head fervently. “Nuh-uh. No way.”

 

Tom ruffled his hair - unkempt as always, and long enough now that it curled at the ends. So unlike the strict, slicked-back hair on most Cardassians. “Come on.”

 

He felt a little guilty that they were doing this without Chakotay. Peval’s first time going through a transporter, his first time on an actual starship. It was the only way he knew how to distract the boy, though, and Chakotay had - albeit reluctantly - agreed to it.

 

Peval stepped off the transporter pad. He looked around the room, then down at his feet. He jumped, once, and then turned to frown at Tom.

 

“Doesn’t feel like we’re on a ship,” he said.

 

Tom laughed. “That’s kind of the point. Come with me.”

 

When the ship’s complement had been a scant one-hundred-and-fifty people, there were times when the Mess Hall was entirely deserted. Now that she was fully staffed with four hundred souls, it was a much more lively place.

 

But Peval didn’t pay any of the dozen or so officers in the Mess Hall a bit of mind when the doors opened and he got his first view of Dorvan V from space.

 

“ _Tom!_ ” he exclaimed, weaving between the tables in his haste to get over to the windows. “Look at this!”

 

“I see, Peval,” Tom said, amused. More than a few heads turned his way, and he shared a knowing smile with the officers. Everyone remembered their first time on a starship. The magic of it never truly went away.

 

“Where’s the settlement?” Peval asked as Tom came over to him. He had his hands pressed flat against the window, and Tom got a glimpse of what he must have looked like as a child. The last time Peval had been in space, he’d been in Tom’s small medical shuttle, which only achieved low orbit. This was a different view entirely.

 

“Just along the terminator there,” Tom said, pointing to the line of demarcation between daytime and night. “North of that crater, between the mountains. You can’t see it from here, obviously, but trust me.”

 

Peval didn’t tear his eyes away from the view. “It looks so _green_.”

 

Tom laughed. The colonists all knew, of course, that rich forests lay to the north of their settlement. But it was one thing to read about it in a text, and another to actually see it. None of them, save Chakotay and Tom, had ever seen Dorvan from this vantage point.

 

“Come on, I have lots more to show you,” he said. “Don’t worry, there are windows all over the place.”

 

“Can I see the bridge?” Peval said, peeling himself away from the window and reluctantly following Tom out.

 

“Of course.”

 

“What about Astrometrics?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Tom!” Peval grabbed his arm suddenly, a thought just occurring to him. “Is the _Delta Flyer_ still on board?”

 

“I -” Tom paused, thinking. “You know, I’m not really sure.”

 

“It is,” said a voice behind them, and they turned.

 

“Harry!” Tom went over to him and clasped him in a quick hug.

 

“I heard through the grapevine that a certain celebrity beamed aboard a little bit ago,” Harry said.

 

“I always forget how fast news travels on a ship.” Tom beckoned to Peval. “Peval, this is Harry Kim. Harry, this is Peval.”

 

“What have you shown him so far?” Harry asked. He shook Peval’s hand briefly and released it.

 

“Just the Mess. He’s never been on a starship before, so I had to show him the view. Care to escort us to the bridge?”

 

“My pleasure.”

 

“Any chance you’ll be coming down to the planet at all?” Tom asked as they walked to the bridge.

 

“Not until the negotiations have officially wrapped up,” Harry said. “Only the diplomatic team is allowed down for right now. How’d you get up here, anyway?”

 

“I asked the Cardassians for permission,” Tom said. “I wouldn’t say that they were thrilled, but they were understanding. Which is weird, coming from Cardassians.”

 

“A lot’s changed since the war,” Harry said, and Tom nodded. Harry gave him a sidelong look. “Like a certain friend of mine running off and getting married without telling any of us, and accidentally inheriting a family.”

 

“Yeah, about that.” Tom rubbed the back of his neck. They’d talked about this in letters, but never in detail. “Er, sorry? If it helps, I didn’t really plan on that happening.”

 

“How’s Chakotay?”

 

“Stressed,” Peval said.

 

“What he said,” Tom said. “Driving me up the walls. I’ll be relieved when this is over. The Cardassians will go home, and I’ll get my husband back.”

 

They rode the turbolift up to the bridge in silence. When the doors opened, Peval made a beeline for the helmsman. Tom and Harry hung back.

 

“It’s not the same on board without you,” Harry said in a low voice.

 

“I know. It’s not the same being confined to a planet without a ship,” Tom said. “But - it’s not bad, you know? I thought I’d hate it. I miss flying like I’m missing a part of myself, but I love them more.”

 

He finally took notice of who was regarding him from the captain’s chair with stern amusement, and he laughed. “B’Elanna!”

 

“Your son’s scaring our pilot,” she said, getting up to greet him. Peval chattered excitedly at the pilot at the helm, who looked bemused.

 

Tom pulled her into a hug, then released her. “Good to see you, too, B’Elanna. Mind if I…?”

 

He gestured toward the helm. B’Elanna nodded.

 

“As long as you haven’t gotten so rusty that you destabilize our orbit. Lieutenant, give Mr. Paris the helm, please.”

 

The lieutenant looked relieved. Tom took his spot, Peval standing over his shoulder. With the ship in standard orbit, there really wasn’t much for a pilot to do but monitor the automated system. Sometimes, for the hell of it, Tom had maintained an orbit manually, just to occupy his mind during the long hours of his shift. Especially when his shift had coincided with Chakotay’s, as it so often had aboard _Voyager_. It was better to keep his mind busy than to allow it to wander, he discovered very early on. Better than to let it drift back to what ifs and maybes and a thousand missed chances.

 

“You’re really good at this,” Peval said after a while spent watching Tom’s hands dance over the controls. Tom gave a huff of laughter.

 

“It’s not something you forget,” he said.

 

“Do you miss it?”

 

“Oh, yes,” Tom said. He reached up and clasped Peval’s shoulder, turning the boy’s attention to him before the silence stretched on for too long. “But not enough.”

 

Tom relinquished the controls and stood. When he turned, he saw that B’Elanna had been watching them with an amused look on her face. Harry looked a little more wistful, but his expression cleared when he noticed Tom’s stare.

 

“I’m off-duty for the next few hours. I can show Peval more of the ship. I know you have things you want to attend to,” Harry told him. “What do you think, Peval? Unless you want to go with Tom to the infirmary.”

 

“I’ll go with you,” Peval said excitedly, and Harry laughed.

 

“We’ll catch up with you later,” he said to Tom, who waved them off.

 

“You know, I never thought I’d be saying this, but fatherhood suits you,” B’Elanna said when they had gone.

 

“Yeah, he’s a good kid,” Tom said fondly. “Walk with me to the infirmary?”

 

B’Elanna gave the helmsman the bridge and followed Tom to the turbolift.

 

“He was furious with you for a long time, you know,” B’Elanna said when the doors had closed and it was just the two of them. Tom swallowed hard.

 

“I know. He didn’t respond to any of my letters for half a year.”

 

“He’s come around a lot since then. It still hurts, that you left without saying anything and never came back, but he understands now. We both do.”

 

Tom chanced a look at her as they walked down the corridor. The world shifted under his feet as understanding dawned. _Oh_.

 

“So the two of you…” he trailed off, astonished.

 

B’Elanna shot him a look. “Surprised?”

 

“I can’t say I ever thought - well - isn’t he a little… tame for you?” Tom stammered.

 

B’Elanna laughed. “Oh, no, believe me, he is _very_ good in bed. Not many people can keep up with me, but Harry -”

 

“ _Stop_ , oh my god,” Tom said, making a show of covering his ears. B’Elanna swatted at him, and he dodged out of the way.

 

“What did you want to talk about, anyway?” she asked as they neared the infirmary.

 

“Chakotay,” Tom said. “Sort of, at least. Peval sprung it on me a few days back that he wants to go to the Academy in two years. He’s got this whole plan. He wants to appeal to the Federation for a permit that will let him cross the border, then he plans to settle down somewhere and work for a year until he can establish residency. Then he applies to the Academy and hopes it wasn’t all for nothing.”

 

“But,” B’Elanna prompted.

 

“But Chakotay shot the idea down and Peval’s devastated.”

 

“You don’t agree with him.”

 

“No.” Tom shook his head. “Don’t get me wrong, B’Elanna. I’d miss him like hell, but how can we deny him this when it’s a good thing and he wants it so badly? He’s a bright kid. He’s already finished all the schooling the colony can offer him. Chakotay and I give him private lessons now, but that will only carry him so far. And it doesn’t really matter, in the end. He’ll end up a farmer, like the rest of his people. He just wants so much _more_.”

 

“Chakotay can be damn stubborn when he’s got his mind set on something,” B’Elanna said.

 

Tom snorted. “No kidding.”

 

They reached the infirmary. It was odd to step through the doors and see not only a doctor, but a full staff of nurses and techs.

 

“Tom, this is Louisa Brax, our CMO,” B’Elanna said, introducing him to a severe-looking woman who gave him a warm smile and shook his hand.

 

“I’ve heard lots about you, Mr. Paris,” Brax said. “What can I do for you?”

 

Tom spent an hour with Brax and her staff going over Tamati’s case. Brax synthesized medication for Tamati that Tom would take back to the surface.

 

“It’s not a cure, but it should temporarily ease some of his symptoms,” she told Tom. “In a very small amount of patients, it exacerbates the symptoms, so please have him read this before he decides to take the medication.”

 

She handed Tom a PADD. He tucked it away in his bag.

 

“What if he’s still alive when this medication runs out?”

 

She folded her arms and leaned against a biobed. “This medication is designed to keep him functioning, not necessarily comfortable, though of course he will feel a bit better than he has been. It will be hard on his body. When he has done all that he needs to do with regards to these negotiations, I suggest taking him off this immediately and switching to heavy painkillers instead. He may not be lucid on them, but he will at least be comfortable until the end. You have the means to replicate those?”

 

Tom nodded. She gave him a sympathetic look.

 

“I’m sorry. I wish there was more that we could do. There’s just so little known about this syndrome.”

 

“You’ve done plenty,” Tom assured her. “Thank you.”

 

“What are his plans for his body, once this is all over?”

 

Tom shook his head. “I’ll give you all my notes and data, I promise you that. But he will be cremated according to custom. He’s adamant about that.”

 

Brax inclined her head, and she left him in her office to organize and pack away the vials of medication. Almost immediately afterward, Harry and Peval came into the room.

 

“How was your tour?” Tom asked, plastering a cheerful smile on his face.

 

“It was _awesome_. Harry took me to Astrometrics and to engineering, and Tom, I got to sit in the _Delta Flyer_! I can’t believe you built it all by yourself! It’s so cool.”

 

“It was good meeting you, Peval,” Harry said. “Tom, I have to get going. I’ll see you again when the negotiations are finished.”

 

It was half a question. Tom nodded.

 

“Of course, Harry. You’ll have to come down to the planet and have dinner with us. B’Elanna, too.”

  
He winked, and Harry flushed.

 

“So what are you working on, anyway?” Peval asked after Harry had left the room.

 

“Normally, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. But now he’s given me permission, so…” Tom waved Peval into a nearby chair. “Tamati’s very sick. I’m working with the doctor up here to see if there’s some medication we can synthesize for him that will… buy him some more time.”

 

“He’s dying?”

 

“Yeah,” Tom said quietly. “I’m afraid so.”

 

“Oh.” Peval absorbed this. Tom went back to his work, capping the vials and packing them in his bag, mentally calculating how much more time this would buy them. Three weeks? Four, at the outside. And that was only if Tamati tolerated the medication and it actually worked for him.

 

“Did you know him very well?” Tom asked cautiously after a beat.

 

“Sort of. He and Dad… for a while...”

 

“I know.”

 

“He didn’t really like me,” Peval said. “He wasn’t mean or anything, but kids weren’t his thing. Well, Cardassian kids weren’t.”

 

“Your dad’s taken him to task for that. I think they’ve mostly made their peace now. Tamati’s come around, more than I thought he ever would. Anaru helps, I suppose.” Tom closed his bag and shouldered it.

 

Peval looked sad. His shoulders slumped. “Poor Anaru.”

 

Tom nodded and squeezed his shoulder. “I’m sure he’d appreciate a hand with his crops this year, especially when harvest comes. Maybe you could offer to help him out.”

 

Peval looked up at him. “Harvest? But that’s not that far off.”

 

Tom’s chest ached. “I know. Tamati doesn’t have long, Peval.”

 

Peval leaned into him, and Tom put an arm around his shoulders. “I hate this.”

 

“It’s been kind of a shit week,” Tom agreed. He dropped a kiss on top of Peval’s head. “Let’s go home.”

 

****

 

The second week of negotiations started with a fire.

 

The casualties were three sheds and a tree, but it still pulled Chakotay from bed at two in the morning. He didn’t return to the house until four, and he had to be in chambers by eight.

 

“Not the most auspicious start to the week,” he said to Tom later that night. He was stretched out on the couch, an arm thrown over his eyes. Tom was in the adjoining room updating some medical files.

 

“How did it go once things got underway?” Tom asked.

 

“Fine,” Chakotay said.

 

“Yeah?"

 

“As well as it could go, I suppose.” Chakotay pushed himself into a sitting position, swung his legs to the floor. He rubbed his eyes. “The Federation wants Dorvan, Xonia, and Azuno returned to them. The Cardassians are willing to give up Azuno but not the others. The Federation then offered to drop Xonia and just ask for Azuno and Dorvan. Now we’re discussing the possibility of the Union giving up all three of the planets to Federation rule but still being allowed to mine some of their resources. It seems as though that is the real sticking point for them.”

 

“How’s Lokul?”

 

Chakotay pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. That was all Tom ever asked about. He would be interested in the negotiations themselves for all of a minute, and then it was back to asking about Lokul. What did it matter? He had no claim to Peval.

 

“Fine,” he said shortly. “Doesn’t really talk during the negotiations. He doesn’t say much of anything at all, to tell the truth. Why?”

 

Tom shot him a look over his computer. “You know why.”

 

“No, Tom, I really don’t.”

 

“Does he say anything about Peval?”

 

“Why _would_ he? The matter is closed, Tom, for Spirits’ sake. Legally, he has no claim to Peval, and Peval has no wish to get to know him. End of story.”

 

“Damn it, Chakotay, it’s not the end of the story and you know it!” Tom yanked his reading glasses off his face and discarded them on the desk. He got up and stormed out into the living room. “He’s not even a diplomat. You do know that, right? I looked it up. He paid his way onto this mission. Clearly, it was so he could see Peval. You think he’s just going to leave it at that? Peval doesn’t want to see him, and that’s going to be the end of the matter?”

 

“Times have changed, Tom,” Chakotay said heatedly.

 

“They haven’t changed _that_ much. For Christ’s sake, Chakotay, these are still Cardassians that we’re dealing with here -”

 

“I’ve got no time for your racism, Tom,” Chakotay snapped. “Enough. I won’t hear another word about this.”

 

Tom gaped at him.

 

“You’re an understanding man, Chakotay, but I’ve never known you to be so willfully blind,” he said finally. “None of this is right. The Cardassians should have known to send neutral parties to these negotiations. Why send the biological parent of one of the half-Cardassian children they left behind all those years ago? Did no one think that might be a poor choice?”

 

“Lokul has been nothing but reasonable -”

 

“Why are you defending him?” Tom threw up his hands. “After everything that Tamati told us -”

 

“What do you care what Tamati says?” Chakotay snapped. “You’ve spent the last four years being jealous of Tamati’s _shadow_. Suddenly you’re friends because he’s dying? How convenient.”

 

Tom’s face rapidly drained of color, so that the thin line of his mouth stood out starkly against his pale skin.

 

“Fuck you,” he said softly. “And fuck your self-righteousness. I’m trying to look out for Peval’s well-being, and all you care about is playing nice with the Cardassians. When the hell did you become this person, and why didn’t I see it before now? Go fuck yourself, Chakotay. I’m _done_.”

 

Cold flooded his veins. “What do you mean, you’re done?”

 

“I mean that I’m done,” Tom repeated. He was shoving his arms into a jacket. “I’m going with _Voyager_ back across the border when this is all over, and I’m taking Peval with me. With or without your consent.”

 

“You can’t do that -”

 

“Fucking _watch me_ , Chakotay!” Tom bellowed at him. His eyes were blazing. “I would burn this settlement to the ground for that boy if it was necessary. Why wouldn’t you?”

 

“Tom -”

 

“I’ll be at Chaya’s if you need me,” Tom interrupted.

 

“Don’t do this,” Chakotay said, hating the note of desperation in his voice. “For Spirits’ sake, Tom, on top of _everything_ else - “

 

“I’ll see you later,” Tom said shortly. The door slammed behind him on his way out.

 

Peval, thankfully, wasn’t home to witness this exchange. He came back just after dinnertime, and told Chakotay that he had eaten with his friends.

 

“Where’s Tom?” was the next thing out of his mouth, and Chakotay floundered.

 

“He’s - uh - he’s helping Chaya with some climate data.”

 

“Oh. I’ll go help them,” Peval said, brightening almost instantly. A stone sank to the pit of Chakotay’s stomach. _He doesn’t want to be around me_.

 

“I think it’d be best if we left them alone,” Chakotay said. “They have a lot of work to do.”

 

Peval frowned in confusion. “So I should go help them with it.”

 

“No,” Chakotay said - too hurriedly, because Peval looked deeply skeptical. He added, “Look, I need to make some dinner. Why don’t you keep me company?”

 

“Okay.” Peval still looked puzzled, but he sat down at the table and watched while Chakotay fixed dinner. He made enough for two and put the extra portion in the cooling unit. Tom might want it when he came back tonight. Even if he didn’t, Peval was bound to eat it at some point. With his rapid-fire teenage metabolism, he consumed whole meals every few hours.

 

“I think we need to talk about Lokul,” Chakotay said.

 

He saw the instant Peval shut down. His gaze hardened and his voice was flat when he said, “We do?”

 

“He wants to know if you’ll talk to him.”

 

“I won’t,” Peval said firmly. “Is that all?”

 

Chakotay took a long pull from his beer, studying Peval’s face. He wondered why he had never noticed it before. Maybe he _had_ been willfully blind. The shape of Peval’s mouth, the harsh slant of his lips when he was angry, the clear eyes that brimmed with emotion - Mira was written all over him.

 

“No,” Chakotay said quietly. “That’s not all. I think I need to tell you about your mother.”

 

Peval went very still. “She’s dead.”

 

“She is,” Chakotay said. “But I thought you might want to know about her. She was one of my friends growing up. We played together. Well, actually, she was Chaya’s friend, but I always tagged along with them. Chaya didn’t find her little brother annoying until she was about sixteen.”

 

“What was her name?”

 

“Mira,” Chakotay said. “She was a midwife, like my own mother. She would have helped deliver most of your friends.”

 

“What was she like?” Peval asked quietly.

 

“Fierce,” Chakotay said with a laugh. “I last saw her when I was fifteen, but I remember that there wasn’t a thing she wouldn’t try at least once. She knew what she wanted out of life, and she got it. You’re a lot like her. I don’t know why I never saw it before.”

 

“I don’t remember her,” Peval said after a short silence.

 

“You were barely a year old when she died,” Chakotay said. “That’s not surprising.”

 

“Did she love me?”

 

“I’m sure she did,” Chakotay said. He didn’t care if it was a lie - Peval needed to hear that, and he couldn’t ask the question of Mira herself.

 

Peval nodded to himself. “Okay. Thanks, Dad -”

 

“Wait,” Chakotay interrupted. “Hold on a moment. There’s something else I want to say.”

 

Peval sat back down, looking at him expectantly. Chakotay drew a deep breath.

 

“I don’t like the idea of you being so far from home,” he said. “But if Dorvan gets returned to the Federation, I won’t stop you from applying to the Academy. I’ll help you in any way I can. If we remain with the Union, then I want you to wait two years. We’ll revisit this again when you’re eighteen.”

 

Peval let out a slow breath. “I won’t change my mind, Dad.”

 

“Two years, Peval.” Chakotay tapped him on the knee and stood. “When you’re an adult in the eyes of the Federation, you can do as you like.”

 

He thought it was a more than generous offer, but all Peval said was, “What did Tom say about that?”

 

“I don’t consult Tom on every decision I make,” Chakotay said testily. “Especially when they involve you.”

 

“Why isn’t he here?” Peval pressed.

 

“I told you, he’s with Aunt Chaya -”

 

“Aunt Chaya isn’t in the lab today,” Peval interrupted. His words had an underlying note of anxiety.

 

Chakotay sighed. “All right, look, Peval, we’ve had a fight. That’s all. Tom wanted a little bit of time away -”

 

Peval shoved his chair back and strode from the room.

 

“Peval -”

  
The front door slammed in his wake, leaving Chakotay alone in the quiet kitchen.

 

_Hell_.


	5. Chapter 5

Tom thought he would only be at Chaya’s for a day, or two at the outset. But it took the rest of the week for his anger to cool to a tolerable level, one where he could think clearly about the whole situation.

 

Through Chaya - who spoke to Apeli every night - he learned that the negotiations were virtually at a standstill. Every day, the Federation would give the Cardassians a list of planets they wanted returned to their space, while the Cardassians did the same. The lists were compared, torn apart, rewritten, rejected, and revised without any real progress being made.

 

No, that wasn’t entirely fair. The fact that the delegations were sitting down to peaceful negotiations in the first place was progress. Just not as much as Tom had been hoping to see at this point.

 

Tom had just sat down at Chaya’s computer to check for any incoming medical messages when there was a frantic knocking on the door. He went to answer it.

 

“Don’t leave,” Peval blurted when Tom opened the door.

 

Tom sighed. “You’d better come in.”

 

Chaya took one look at Peval’s face and brought him a large mug of steaming tea. She then took Hanna to the lab, leaving Tom and Peval alone to talk.  

 

“I should never have said anything,” Peval said when she had gone. They were sitting side-by-side on the couch. His hands, Tom noticed, were shaking. He tried to cover it by wrapping them tightly around his mug. “I only wanted - I just thought -”

 

“You couldn’t have known Dad would react like that,” Tom said. “You’re allowed to have hopes and dreams, Peval. Don’t ever believe otherwise.”

 

“But now everything is _ruined_.” Liquid sloshed over the sides of the mug, and Peval hissed. Tom took it from his hands and put it safely out of the way on the table. “If I’d never said anything, Dad wouldn’t be upset and you would still be back at home. He’s got so much going on right now, I should never - and now you’re going to _leave_. Please don’t, Tom. Just forget I said anything, okay? It’s all right, I can stay here and be a farmer. We always need farmers.”

 

“Hey.” Tom took Peval’s hands. Warm still from the mug, but cooling fast to match the temperature in the room. “Listen, sometimes people say things in the heat of the moment that they don’t actually mean. I’m not going to leave, Peval. I just needed some time and space. Frankly, I think Dad needed it as well. Sometimes he has to be alone with his thoughts, and work through whatever is going on in his brain on his own.”

 

“You’re not leaving with _Voyager_?”

 

“No,” Tom said.

 

“Oh.” Peval deflated in relief, expelling a long sigh. “Thank the Spirits.”

 

Tom squeezed his hands and then released him. “I’ll tell you what I _am_ going to do, though. I’m going to adopt you. I’ve had Tamati start the paperwork already. Legally, it will give me the same rights as your father. Unfortunately, it’s going to take a few months to be processed by the Detapa Council, so you’ll miss this window of opportunity to leave with _Voyager_. But there are other vessels passing through this system all the time. I’m sure we could arrange for your passage on one of them when the time comes. They’re always looking for strong deck hands.”

 

Peval stared at him. Tom watched his throat bob as he swallowed.

 

“Dad will kill you,” he said thickly.

 

“You let me worry about him,” Tom said, ignoring the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He hated the idea of lying to Chakotay, of going behind his back like this. There was a real risk that they would never recover from this. But if it got Peval to the Academy, Tom could live with that.

 

Peval closed his eyes, then slowly shook his head.

 

“No,” he said quietly, and his voice cracked. “No, I don’t want you to do that. If I go, I want it to be because Dad agreed to it. I want him to support this. Does that make sense?”

 

“Yeah, it does,” Tom said. “But kiddo, I don’t know if he’ll ever come around. Even when you’re legally an adult in the eyes of the Federation and can make this decision on your own, I don’t know if he’ll support it.”

 

Peval gave a thin smile. “I’ll take that chance.”

 

Tom put a hand on the back of Peval’s neck, squeezed, and then stood up. Peval followed him to the door. Tom paused with his hand on the keypad.

 

“Did you really think I’d leave the two of you?” he asked.

 

Peval hesitated.

 

“Not really,” he said at last. “But then, I also never thought I’d ever run into my biological father.”

 

“Fair point,” Tom conceded. “Listen, I’ll get in contact with Tamati and have him stop the paperwork -”

 

“No,” Peval said quickly. Tom turned to look at him. His cheeks were tinged pink, but he said steadily, “I want you to adopt me. If - if you still want to.”

 

Tom felt his throat constrict. Breathing was difficult, and he had to swallow several times before he could say, “I’d love that, kiddo.”

 

****

 

The afternoon stretched on, endless and oppressive. Tamati was in pain, and Chakotay could feel his discomfort as acutely as if it was his own. Tension radiated off him. He was exerting enormous effort just to stay focused and upright.

 

Others were noticing it, too. Chakotay caught the other members of the council shooting surreptitious looks in Tamati’s direction. Tamati wouldn’t go home early, and the negotiations today were stretching out far longer than usual. They kept circling back to the same points over and over.

 

“This is getting ridiculous,” Chakotay finally spoke up. Kiri shot him an alarmed look, but he ignored it. “We keep rehashing the same issues over and over, and it’s getting us nowhere. I’m tired of the diplomacy speak. Can we truly not move forward from here? Is the only way you’ll return Dorvan to the Federation is if you get Denaria V and Athena VII in return? If that’s the case and there is no other alternative you would consider, then I don’t know what the point of these negotiations was in the first place. You didn’t come here with the intention of ever negotiating, did you?”

 

Silence followed his outburst.

 

“Minister Chakotay,” Mikera began calmly, “I understand your frustration. Truly, I do. Were it up to me, I would be willing to be more flexible on those terms. I personally think the Cardassian Union has no need for a world like Denaria V, but those decisions are not mine to make. The Detapa Council has a vision that we may not see, but we are expected to carry their orders out.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Chakotay saw Tamati reach for the water jug and pour some into his glass. His hands shook.

 

This isn’t worth it, Chakotay realized numbly. All these months, all these preparations, and it will amount to nothing in the end. Why are we pretending otherwise? We are literally killing ourselves over these negotiations.

 

“Then I don’t see the point in continuing,” he said quietly. “We have traumatized our people by dredging up these awful memories. We have given them false hope. Perhaps it would be best to shelve these negotiations until such time as the Cardassian Union is actually ready to consider them.”

 

“Your hands are not tied entirely, Minister Chakotay,” Lokul said. Every head turned to look at him.

 

“What do you mean?” Chakotay asked wearily. He was bone-tired. He longed for his bed, and for Tom. His mind was a fog, and he could not go on playing these nimble games of word and sharp tongue with the Cardassians.

 

“There is something you could provide for us that would guarantee Dorvan’s return to the Federation,” Lokul said. “We want the children.”

 

Chakotay felt the blood drain from his face and pool somewhere down by his feet.

 

“Pardon?” Janeway asked, but there was a sudden flash of steel in her voice.

  
“We want the children,” Lokul repeated. “The ones who still have blood family on Cardassia. If they are returned to us, we will hand this planet over to the Federation. We will withdraw our requests for the other worlds, and we will remove our mining operations from this one. We want our children back, and you gain a planet.”

 

Janeway looked at Mikera. “Why is this the first that we’re hearing about this?”

 

“It was an idea that was proposed in the Detapa Council but it was never authorized -”

 

“It is now,” Lokul interrupted. “As of last night. I spoke to Legate Perak myself. I can open a line to his office right now, if you would like.”

 

“Don’t bother,” Janeway said. “It’s such a ludicrous thought that it isn’t even worth entertaining. We are not handing over living beings in exchange for planets. That might be how the Cardassian Union negotiates, but it is appalling to the Federation.”

 

“It wasn’t all that appalling when the borders were re-drawn before the war and dozens of Federation worlds - and their people - ended up in our space,” Lokul said. “This situation is different. The Cardassian children left behind on this planet belong to the Union, and they should be reunited with their families. That is clear.”

 

“We are their families,” Kiri said. “It is recognized by the law.”

 

“Yes, it is. If it wasn’t, they would have been removed long ago,” Lokul said. “This is why I’m bringing this to the negotiation table. You lose nothing by giving us the children. In fact, you stand to gain everything you came for.”

 

A ringing silence followed.

 

“I think, before we proceed any further, I should speak with Legate Perak,” Janeway said finally. “And then I need to consult with Admiral Haines.”

 

Lokul inclined his head. “Of course, Captain. We can make the call from our vessel.”

 

When the delegations had dispersed, all eyes turned to Chakotay.

 

“The Federation won’t agree to that,” Apeli said.

 

“The Federation gave up Dorvan in the first place,” Tamati snapped. “If the stakes are high enough, what makes you think they won’t hand over a dozen children? Especially when the children aren’t fully human.”

 

“Maybe we should ask the children what they want,” Qura said. “We haven’t given them the opportunity to express their wishes, have we? This entire time, all we’ve done is drag them to meetings with the Cardassians and allow them to be grilled. Maybe they have questions in return. Maybe they _do_ want to know about their birth families.”

 

“Shut up, Qura,” Tamati snarled. “You’ve always been so concerned with bending over backwards for the Cardassians -”

 

“Because we could lose _everything_ if we don’t -”

 

“For once in your life, take a stand for something -”

 

“Enough,” Chakotay said sharply. Silence fell. “Arguing will get us nowhere. We have inadvertently been offered an early night. I suggest we make use of it.”

 

“Chakotay -” Kiri started, but he shook his head.

 

“I need to go be with my family,” he said quietly. “Excuse me.”

 

****

 

Chakotay braced himself for entering an empty home - Peval would be out with friends until well past sunset - and was stopped dead in his tracks when he opened the door and saw Tom in the kitchen.

 

“You’re early,” Tom said in surprise. He was drying his hands on a towel. Dinner was bubbling away. “What’s wrong?”

 

There was alarm in his voice. Chakotay could only imagine what his own face looked like right now.

 

“You were right about Lokul,” he said. Somehow he made it to a chair. Tom sat down next to him, and haltingly Chakotay recounted the afternoon’s events. By the end of it, Tom was shaking.

 

“That _asshole_ ,” he hissed.

 

“If I’d gotten wind that they would pull something like this, I never would have voted for these negotiations,” Chakotay said.

 

“So withdraw your vote,” Tom said. “Do it now. All it takes is one, Chakotay. That’s what you’ve been saying for months. It’s why Tamati -”

 

He broke off. Chakotay closed his eyes. Tamati. He had given up quite literally everything, and here Chakotay was considering throwing it all away. Making Tamati’s sacrifice count for nothing.

 

He liked to think Tamati would understand.

 

“No.”

 

They both looked up. Peval was standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

 

“How long have you been there?” Chakotay croaked.

 

“Don’t do it, Dad,” Peval said. “I’ll go back to Cardassia with him. It’s what he wants. He doesn’t care about the other children. He’s just upset because I refused to talk to him, so he’s lashing out. It’s all a ploy to get to me.”

 

“You are _not_ going back to Cardassia with that man,” Tom said firmly, getting to his feet. “End of story, Peval.”

 

“Tom -”

 

“If this was something you truly wanted, I would support you whole-heartedly. But it’s not.” Tom folded his arms and looked at Chakotay. “Don’t wait for the Federation to come back with their decision, because they might decide this is a sacrifice worth making. Withdraw your support. Change your vote, and get those monsters off our planet. Or so help me, Chakotay -”

 

“Tom.” Chakotay got up and went over to him. He rested his hands on Tom’s arms. “Calm down. I agree with you. They’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

 

“Dad, please…”

 

Chakotay beckoned to Peval, who crossed over to them. His eyes were shining. Chakotay put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close.

 

“Listen to me,” he said quietly. “There is nothing in the universe more important to me than you and Tom. If keeping you safe means giving up Dorvan’s shot at Federation citizenship, then that’s what we’re going to do. Without question.”

 

He opened his other arm, and Tom stepped into the embrace. They stood there for several long minutes, until Chakotay finally said, “I need to call Anaru. I want to make sure Tamati got home.”

 

Tamati was the one who answered the vid call, though. He was sitting in bed, propped upright with some pillows. Chakotay could see a framed holo-image hanging on the wall over his shoulder. It was of him and Anaru on the day of their bonding ceremony.

 

“I was just checking in,” Chakotay said. Tamati snorted.

 

“Of course you were,” he said. “Spirits, Chakotay, you fuss like a grandmother. I am _fine_.”

 

“You weren’t looking all that fine a few hours ago.”

 

Tamati pulled a face. “I needed another round of the medication, that’s all.”

 

Chakotay did the mental calculation. “You’re increasing the frequency of your dosages.”

 

“It’s necessary.”

 

Chakotay had nothing he could say to that. Telling him that was unsafe seemed pointless - he was dying, after all. What did it matter how he treated his body at this stage? Was it worth going through the pain if it meant he added a few days, a few weeks to the end of his life?

 

They used to talk like this every night, back before Tom and before Anaru. It seemed as though they could never run out of words to say to one another, even when the words were all wrong. Even if Chakotay was traveling in one direction and Tamati in another. Looking back, he felt he must have known from the start that it wasn’t right, that they were never going to work. But the attempt had been worth it, no matter how volatile the end had been.

 

And now, here they were starting to get things _right_ for the very first time, and it was about to all be snatched away from him.

 

“I’m changing my vote,” Chakotay said, shaking himself when he realized the silence had stretched on for too long. “I’m ending these negotiations.”

 

“I had a feeling you might.”

 

“I’m so sorry, Tamati -”

 

“Shut up, Chakotay,” Tamati said without any real heat. “I was going to do the same.”

 

“What?”

 

“Did you really think I would let the children be a bargaining chip?”

 

Chakotay’s silence must have been answer enough, for Tamati’s mouth twisted.

 

“Perhaps at one point I might have,” he allowed softly. “But not any longer. It is not up for negotiation. We cannot allow the Federation to even consider the possibility of handing over the children. We end it, and we end it now.”

 

Chakotay swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

 

“The attempt was worth it,” Tamati said, his voice hollow. He added, brightening slightly, “Anaru will be pleased, at least. Not that negotiations have ended, but that I will be home more.”

 

He sighed slowly, and said, “Was there anything else? I should sleep.”

 

“Of course,” Chakotay said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

 

****

 

Only Mikera and Gabor were present the next morning. They were already seated in the great hall by the time the Federation delegation and the ruling council entered the room, heads bent together over a PADD. They both stood when the doors opened.

 

“Where is Glinn Lokul?” Kiri asked.

 

“He will no longer be joining us at the negotiations table,” Mikera said coldly.

 

Everyone must have looked alarmed at that, for she added, “He has been confined to the ship. We no longer require him at these meetings.”

 

Kiri said cautiously, “And why is that, may I ask?”

 

“I will not be bullied,” MIkera said firmly. “Whatever the outcome of these negotiations, it will be done honorably. There will be no threats, and no bribes, and we won’t toy with the lives of children. Now, shall we continue?”

 

“We would welcome the opportunity,” Janeway said. She sat at the table first. Slowly, everyone else took their usual spots.

 

“It is important to the Detapa Council that we not alienate the government that shares our borders,” Mikera said. “I fully admit that we are finding it difficult to break out of the old ways. Such backdoor tactics would have been acceptable back then, even expected. But that is not how we wish to do things here. Legate Pekar has also been removed from his duties. Legate Vanek will be taking his place as our point of contact with the Council.”

 

“And the children?” Chakotay asked, needing to hear the words himself.

 

“Will not be used for as a bargaining chip,” Mikera said. “I assure you of that.”

 

It was not all that long ago that Chakotay would have said that the word of a Cardassian held no weight. He nodded at her in acquiescence. He trusted her, and thought that alone might be progress.

 

“Since we are speaking plainly,” he said, “then what will it take for Dorvan to be returned to the Federation? You know that has been our goal all along. What planets does the Union want in return? What resources?”

  
“I cannot guarantee that my recommendations will see Dorvan returned to the Federation,” Mikera said. “But I can tell you what is most likely to work, and you will need to decide if that is acceptable. If it is, we will draw up the proposal and submit it to our government for consideration.”

 

In the end, it was decided that the trade would be four worlds for two. All of them were uninhabited, except for Dorvan. The Cardassians got four planets that were rich in resources, and they agreed to propose halting mining operations on the two worlds that the Federation would get.

 

The two delegations wrote the proposal jointly, and then submitted it to the ruling council. For three days, all twelve of them pored over the document, revising it until everyone reached a consensus.

 

The Federation delegation signed the proposal first, and then the two Cardassians did as well.

 

Kiri signed her name once the document was passed to the ruling council, and then said, “Ministers?”

 

One by one, they each signed their names. Chakotay, as the most senior minister, signed last. He swept his hand across the screen when he was finished, and copies of the resolution were transferred to the hand terminals of the Federation and Cardassian delegations. They added their signatures to the bottom of the document as well.

 

“Thank you,” Mikera said. “We will submit this to the Detapa Council. They will hand down their decision within the week.”

 

“The President of the Federation will also have her decision within that timeframe,” Janeway said.

 

“Does this mean I can invite you all over for dinner now?” Chakotay asked as the meeting broke up for the last time. Janeway offered him a bright smile.

 

“We would be delighted to accept, Minister,” she said. “Tonight?”

 

“Yes, that would be fine.”

 

When it was finally just the ruling council left in the room, Apeli said, “Well. That went better than I was expecting.”

 

“I am hopeful the outcome will be the one we have wished for,” Kiri agreed. “It seems there might actually be a chance of that. Dismissed, ministers. I see no reason for us to reconvene again until the decision has been made.””

 

“Wait a moment. I have something to say.” Tamati didn’t stand. In fact, it looked as though even sitting was an effort for him, but his voice was strong. “I’m stepping down from my seat on the council. My resignation is effective immediately. Latori will take my place, as was agreed upon when I was elected.”

 

“Tired of politics already?” Apeli said, lips twitching in amusement. He was the only one who seemed to find some humor in this. The others looked stunned.

 

“I wish I could say that was the case,” Tamati said. “No. I must resign for medical reasons. I’m dying. Tom Paris diagnosed me with Arnout syndrome three months ago. I can’t continue any longer in this capacity.”

 

A shocked silence descended on the council.

 

“You were screened for that as a baby,” Kiri said quietly.

 

“The scans were wrong,” Tamati said.

 

Kiri looked at Chakotay, her gaze almost accusing. “You knew.”

 

“I only found out just before the negotiations started,” Chakotay said.

 

“Tom says there is nothing to be done?”

 

“He verified his findings with the Starfleet doctor, just to be sure.”

 

“I would like to spend what little time I have left at home, with Anaru,” Tamati said. “I will not be making appearances at council meetings any longer. I trust that I will be informed when the decision comes through?”

 

“Right away,” Chakotay said.

 

Tamati pushed himself to his feet. He offered a hand to Kiri, who grasped it with both of her own.

 

“It’s been a pleasure serving with you,” he said.

 

“The honor has been ours,” she said softly.

 

Chakotay hung back as the council dispersed.

 

“I think you’re going to need to help me home,” Tamati said ruefully.

 

“I’ll call _Voyager_ to transport you -”

 

“No,” Tamati said sharply. “I will walk. Give me your arm.”

 

Anaru met them at the door to the house. He was still caked in dust and dirt from a day spent in the fields. Chakotay handed Tamati off to him.

 

“I’ll be back as soon as there’s any news,” he said. “If you need anything…”

 

“Tom will be my first call,” Tamati promised. Weak as he must have been, his voice was steady and his jaw was tight with resolve.

 

Chakotay said to Anaru, “Keep me updated.”

 

Anaru nodded tightly, then guided Tamati into the house. The door shut behind them.

 

****

 

Chakotay started dinner preparations while Tom was out checking in on some patients. Peval joined him.

 

“Do you think they’ll let us return to the Federation?” Peval asked after some moments of silence.

 

“I don’t know, Peval,” Chakotay said honestly. “But I think there’s a very good chance of it.”

 

“And… the glinn?”

 

“Lokul has been confined to the Cardassian ship. He will be returning to Cardassia with them when the delegation departs tomorrow,” Chakotay said. He paused in slicing vegetables. “Would you like to go see him?”

 

Peval’s answer was a long time in coming.

 

“No,” he said finally. “I don’t. Is that wrong?”

 

“No,” Chakotay said. “No, it’s not wrong. It wouldn’t be wrong if you did want to talk to him, either. Do whatever you’re most comfortable with, Peval.”

 

Tom joined the dinner preparations when he came home.

 

“Who are we all expecting?” he asked.

 

“Kathryn, Tuvok, B’Elanna, and Harry,” Chakotay said. “We’ll have to eat outside, there’s no room in here.”

 

When Peval left to lay out some blankets outside, Chakotay asked, “Did you check in on Tamati?”

 

“I stopped by their house on my way back,” Tom said. “He’ll be starting the heavy painkillers tonight, once that last dosage of medication wears off.”

 

“How much longer do you think he has?”

 

Tom didn’t look up from the pot he was stirring. “It’s difficult to say for sure. There’s not a lot of literature on the disease, and already Tamati has outlasted the life expectancy -”

 

“Tom.”

 

The pot was starting to boil over. Tom turned down the heat and finally looked up. His expression was grave. “Days, at the most. I would be very surprised if he was still with us by the time we hear back from the Federation and Detapa Council. I think he knows it, too. But by God, he’s going to keep fighting.”

 

Their guests arrived just before sunset. They ate outside on the blankets, underneath a clear sky that slowly became studded with stars. Peval shrugged on a sweater as the temperature dipped to a more tolerable level. He had fallen into conversation with Tuvok. Tom, Harry, and Kathryn sat huddled together, laughing over some bit of Starfleet gossip Harry had picked up on the assignment before this one.

 

B’Elanna, seated at Chakotay’s side, had fallen silent. She was watching them, a smile apparent on her lips even in the darkness.

 

Chakotay nudged her gently with his shoulder and asked, “How long?”

 

“Depends on how you look at it.”

 

“And how do you look at it?”

 

“Two years,” she answered.

 

He was taken aback. “All that time. You never said.”

 

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I didn’t know what to say. It just - was.”

 

“What will you do after this assignment? Are you posted on _Voyager_ permanently?”

  
B’Elanna shook her head. “No. This was just a temporary posting. Harry’s going to take a position at Starfleet Academy when we get back, and I’ll find work somewhere in the Terra system. I’ve been approached about training missions for freshmen cadets, the week-long ones to Luna and back.”

 

Chakotay couldn’t help it. He grinned at the picture of B’Elanna teaching a bunch of newbie cadets that popped into his head, and when he caught her eye, he saw that she was smiling as well.

 

“You’re going to eat them alive,” he said fondly.

 

“They’ll live,” she said dryly.

 

Silence stretched between them for a few comfortable minutes.

 

“Promise me something,” B’Elanna said suddenly.

 

There was a time when Chakotay would have said, “Anything, B’Elanna.” Now, he simply gave her a wary look.

 

“I’ll do my best,” he said guardedly.

 

“No matter what happens,” B’Elanna said, “you send Peval to the Academy. Or do your damnedest to help him get in, at least.”

 

“B’Elanna, you know I can’t make that kind of promise -”

 

“The only thing I know,” she said, speaking over him, “is that if you don’t let him at least try to get in, he’s going to resent you forever. He loves you, he will _always_ love you, but he will never be able to fully set aside the fact that his father kept him from trying to reach this dream. You’ve got friends in the Federation still, Chakotay. He’ll be well looked after.”

 

“I don’t doubt that,” Chakotay said.

 

“Then what is it?”

 

Chakotay was quiet for a moment.

 

“If Peval goes,” he said, “I’ll never see him again.”

 

“You don’t know that,” B’Elanna said gently.

 

“I fear it. Deep down in my bones, I can _feel_ it,” Chakotay said. “It’s the universe balancing out the cosmic scale. I failed my father. I left him, and I never saw him again. He died because I was too proud, too arrogant to return to Dorvan, and by the time I did it was too late. I couldn’t save my father, and now Peval will be taken from me.”

 

B’Elanna said nothing. She found his hand, and held it.


	6. Chapter 6

Chakotay walked home from the council meeting alone. His shirt clung to his back; the unforgiving sun beat down on his head. Dorvan’s star was brighter than Sol, and fractionally larger in the summer sky. They had no moon. When night fell, the only illumination came from starlight.

 

He thought Tom would be out tending to patients. It was a shock to find the house occupied, and he couldn’t mask his face in time. Tom took one look at him and knew what had happened. Astonishment crossed his features.

 

“What were their reasons?” he asked faintly.

 

The closest chair was only a few feet away, but it might as well have been a mile. Chakotay leaned back against the wall and slid to the floor. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and rested his elbows on his knees.

 

“There was a dispute over two of the worlds. The Cardassians appreciated the Federation’s offer of Arusha, but they preferred Paraden. It’s a more strategic location, and the planet is rich in ore they can mine.” Chakotay swallowed hard. “The Federation declined their request. Paraden is too valuable for them to give up for what they were getting in return.”

 

“More valuable,” Tom echoed faintly. He sank down next to Chakotay on the floor. “No one lives on Paraden.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

What else was there to say? Chakotay covered his face with a hand. Tom took hold of his other one, and they said nothing for a long while.

 

“Peval’s out with friends. They plan to go to the town meeting later,” Tom said at length. It might have been minutes or it might have been an hour. Chakotay couldn’t tell. He lifted his head.

 

“I’ll go,” he said, even though the last thing he wanted was to hear the awful news spoken aloud again. Peval would need him.

 

“We’ll both go.” Tom rubbed his arm. “Are you going to tell Tamati tonight?”

 

“I can’t put it off. Who knows…”

 

He stopped himself from finishing the thought. Who knew how much time Tamati had left?

 

“I need to send you with more painkillers. He’ll be running out soon.” Tom started to get up. Chakotay pulled him back down.

 

“This is your chance, you know,” he said quietly. He cupped Tom’s cheek. “You could go back with _Voyager_.”

 

Tom stared at him blankly. “What?”

 

“It wouldn’t be an easy feat, but we could manage it,” Chakotay said. “We know that ship inside and out. If it came to it, we could get you on board undetected.”

 

Tom huffed. “So I could smuggle myself across the border? Are you crazy?”

 

“You’d have to keep a low profile once back in Federation space, but you’ve done that before. You could make a life for yourself -”

 

Tom wrenched his hand away and stood. Chakotay pushed himself to his feet.

 

“How dare you,” Tom snapped. “How _dare_ you talk like what I have here isn’t a life!”

 

“Tom, we are a dwindling population on a dying planet,” Chakotay said. “You’ve seen Chaya’s climate predictions. You know it’s true. This is your chance to get out.”

 

“So you’d get me out, but not your own child?”

 

“Peval belongs here -”

 

“Peval belongs in Starfleet!” Tom interrupted. “Peval belongs in the Federation. Peval belongs at the helm of a ship. Peval belongs on a thriving, _living_ planet. He belongs anywhere but here! Don’t you see that? This planet stifles him, diminishes him. It may be right for you and me but it’s _strangling_ him. And here you are willing to break about a dozen laws to get me out of here but you won’t offer him the same courtesy! What the hell is wrong with you?”

 

“If it was what you wanted,” Chakotay said quietly, “I’d break every law and then some to get you back across the border.”

 

They stared at one another for a full minute, Tom’s chest heaving as he struggled to bring his emotions under control.

 

“But I _don’t_ want that,” he said finally. “It doesn’t matter to me where I am, as long as it’s with you. Don’t you get it?”

 

Chakotay drew Tom in and kissed him.

 

“You’re the light of my life,” he said softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

 

“And you’re infuriating,” Tom said with a sigh. “But I love you, too.”

 

Nearly half the settlement turned out for the town meeting. Kiri made the announcement in a clear voice that carried over the crowd. Though his people bore the news stoically, the disappointment was palpable. Peval turned to him, anguish on his face.

 

“I don’t understand,” he whispered. His eyes were wide, imploring, as though Chakotay could tell him that it was all a mistake and that Dorvan was going to be handed over to the Federation after all.

 

“Neither do I,” Chakotay admitted. He put an arm around Peval’s shoulders and drew him close. Dropping a kiss on top of his head, he added, “I’m sorry, Val.”

 

“You’ll try again,” Peval said, his voice muffled against Chakotay’s shoulder.

 

Chakotay’s throat constricted. “Not for a while. Tamati had to resign his seat. He’s too sick to go on. His replacement opposed these negotiations, and does not intend to vote in favor of future ones.”

 

It was a long time before the crowd dispersed. It broke up at the edges first, and they were among the first to head for home. Chakotay followed a few steps behind Tom and Peval. At one point, Tom put an arm around Peval’s shoulders and drew the teen to his side, speaking words that only Peval could hear.

 

They were the same height now, Chakotay realized. It seemed as though it wasn’t all that long ago that Peval only came up to Tom’s chest. Last winter, he stood just below Tom’s chin. All those months spent pent up in council chambers, and Chakotay had missed Peval’s latest - perhaps his last - growth spurt. He was nearly a man now.

 

Peval left for a friend’s house almost as soon as they arrived home. Tom disappeared into his office and came out a few minutes later with a slender box.

 

“For Tamati,” he said, holding it out for Chakotay to take. “He’ll be needing another week’s worth by tomorrow. Can you take it to him?”

 

Anaru answered the door when Chakotay knocked. Absurdly, Chakotay had expected Tamati. Anaru’s bloodshot eyes focused on him, and the lines at the corners of his mouth deepened.

 

“He doesn’t know,” he said in a low voice - a plea, a warning.

 

Chakotay held out the box. Anaru eyed it like it might explode, then carefully took it from his hands.

 

“He’s awake,” Anaru said finally in quiet resignation, not looking at Chakotay. He stood aside to let Chakotay by, then softly shut the door.

 

Tamati was sitting up in bed with the aid of several pillows. The soft yellow lamplight accentuated his hollow cheeks and sunken eyes. He had lost weight at an alarming pace since leaving the council.

 

The chair creaked as Chakotay settled into it, and Tamati cracked open his eyes. They were bright and alert.

 

“Finally,” he said, a note of indignation in his weak voice. “Well?”

 

Chakotay could feel Anaru’s quiet presence behind him, but he didn’t dare tear his eyes away from Tamati’s. In another second, his silence would be too long, and then he wouldn’t have to say anything at all.

 

“The paperwork alone is going to be a nightmare,” he said, “but it’s done. The Detapa Council agreed to the terms this morning. We just got word. We’re going to be handed over to the Federation.”

 

He had forgotten what a brilliant thing Tamati’s smile could be.

 

“I think that calls for a drink,” he said. “Anaru, dear, would you mind?”

 

Anaru disappeared from the doorway. Tamati tapped Chakotay on the knee.

 

“Tell me everything,” he said.

 

“There isn’t much to say,” Chakotay said. He considered his words, wondering how vague he could be but still sound believable. “We’ve a long way to go before it’s all official, but the hard part is over.”

 

Anaru came back with two glasses of amber liquid.

 

“Oh, you’re letting me drink as well, are you?” Tamati said lightly, taking the proffered glass. “I must really be dying.”

 

Anaru looked as though he had been slapped. Tamati was immediately contrite. The smile disappeared from his face.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, holding out his free hand. Anaru took it. “Give us a few minutes, would you?”

 

Anaru leaned over Tamati to kiss his forehead, then quietly left the room. Chakotay shook his head and took a sip of his drink. It was bitter and strong, and burned the whole way down.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing,” Chakotay said. He felt his lips tug into a smirk. “He really is too good for you, you know.”

 

“I do know,” Tamati said. “Somehow I’ve managed to fool him, whereas I could never fool you.”

 

Chakotay’s smile faded. “He loves you.”

 

“He’s the greatest part of my life,” Tamati said. “I’m sorry to leave him.”

 

He paused for a moment, drawing breath, and then added, “I’m sorry to leave you.”

 

“There will be a hole in my life without you.”

 

Tamati smirked briefly. “You never thought you would ever say those words, did you?”

 

Chakotay huffed. “Maybe not. We weren’t good for each other, Tamati.”

 

“No, we weren’t,” Tamati said. His eyes slipped closed. “But I’m glad we had what we did.”

 

“As am I.”

 

Silence stretched for so long that he thought Tamati had fallen asleep. Chakotay took his untouched drink from his grasp and set it aside. But then Tamati dragged open his eyes and said, “I’m sorry for the way I treated him. Them. The children.”

 

“Tamati -”

 

“It doesn’t matter now,” Tamati said, speaking over him. “I know it doesn’t. There’s nothing that can make up for how I treated him. What I said about him in front of you. I just - I wanted you to know.”

 

Chakotay half-rose from his chair. He leaned in and pressed his lips to Tamati’s forehead.

 

“There’s so much -” Chakotay broke off. Sank back into the chair. “We have so much left to do. So much to say. Tamati, we’re getting it _right_. For the first time -”

 

“I know.” Tamati’s voice was weak, but it stopped him mid-sentence. “But it’s all right. This is the path we were meant to walk.”

 

Chakotay wasn’t sure of that. He wasn’t sure of a lot of things anymore. But he nodded anyway.

 

“When this is all over, will you see to the arrangements?” Tamati’s mouth twisted before he managed to get his expression under control. “I’ve put Anaru through enough, I think.”

 

Chakotay nodded. Tamati touched Chakotay’s knee, and Chakotay threaded their fingers together.

 

“Peval must be ecstatic,” Tamati said. He closed his eyes.

 

“Yes,” Chakotay said, because Peval would have been, if it were true. “Over the moon.”

 

Silence for a while. Chakotay again thought Tamati had fallen asleep, until he said, “He’ll make a fine cadet, Chakotay. One of Stafleet’s best.”

 

The pain was very bad tonight. Chakotay finally summoned Anaru, who brought in the painkillers Tom had sent.

 

“Would you like something to eat?” Anaru asked Tamati. He perched on the edge of the mattress and administered the painkillers. Tamati’s pinched expression eased.

 

“No,” he rasped. “Thank you, my love.”

 

He did sleep after that. Anaru stayed and watched him, occasionally stroking the back of his hand or kissing his cheek. The prolonged silence became uncomfortable, and Chakotay moved quietly toward the door.

 

“No,” Anaru said softly. “Stay. He wants you here.”

 

Chakotay eased back into his chair and took Tamati’s hand. They sat in silence, watching as Tamati’s chest slowly rose and fell with each shallow breath.

 

He was gone by midnight.


	7. Epilogue

It rained like this, Chaya said, once every century. She had climate records stretching back hundreds of years, the earliest ones written in fading ink on fragile paper. Her sophisticated models had predicted a rainstorm like this five years from now. Chakotay wasn’t surprised. It would hardly be the first time Dorvan did the opposite of what they were expecting.

 

The crops would be good this year, at least if the rain let up by the following afternoon. Otherwise, they risked flooding in the fields that would drown the young plants. Each year was a delicate balancing act. Either the rains were too much or too little.

 

And now they were short a healthy adult in the fields. Two, if he counted Peval. Every ounce of manpower mattered when it came time to planting and harvesting. It would be a hard year.

 

When wasn’t it a hard year?

 

Tom’s fingers found his. He squeezed Chakotay’s hand, then started to pull away. Chakotay tangled their fingers together, not letting him go. A canopy had been erected in the middle of this field, with small holes cut into the top to let the smoke escape. It let some of the rain in, too, but the gentle mist was not going to be enough to put out the fire.

 

Several hundred people had turned out, in the cold and the rain, to pay their respects to Tamati. Nearly half the settlement. The throng surrounded the canopy on all sides, silent, waiting.

 

Chakotay stood on one side of Anaru, Kiri on the other. Peval was on Tom’s other side, and out of the corner of his eye Chakotay saw Tom squeeze Peval’s shoulder. The funeral rites were read, but he hardly heard the words. When the pyre was lit, Chakotay felt a full-body shudder go through Anaru. Kiri steadied him with an arm around his waist, and Anaru leaned into her.

 

The pyre burned for hours. The crowd dispersed slowly, until it was the middle of the night and the only people left by the canopy were the ruling council, Tom, and Anaru.

 

“Anaru,” Kiri said gently. She removed her arm from around his waist and took his hand. Anaru tore his gaze away from the ashes and glowing embers to look at her. “Let’s go home.”

 

“Go,” Anaru said, his voice a thin rasp. “I’m going to stay a bit longer. Thank you, ministers.”

 

Kiri shot Chakotay a look. He nodded at her, and the ruling council took their leave. Chakotay rested a hand on Anaru’s back, between his shoulder blades.

 

“I’m going to walk him home,” Chakotay said, and Tom nodded before slipping away into the night with Peval.

 

It would be the first time since Tamati’s death that Anaru would step foot in the home they had shared. For the past three days he had slept under Chakotay’s roof.

 

“Do you need anything?” Chakotay asked when they reached the front stoop.

 

He was oblivious to the absurdity of the question until the words were out of his mouth, but Anaru merely shook his head and said in his gentle voice, “No, thank you. You’ve been more than kind these past couple of days. I’m sorry to have imposed.”

 

“It was the least we could do. If you’re sure there’s nothing…”

 

Chakotay trailed off. Anaru shook his head.

 

“I’ll be fine. Good night, Chakotay.”

 

“Anaru.” Chakotay put a hand on his elbow, and Anaru turned around. “I never got a chance to say - but I thought you should know -”

 

He stopped and looked away.

 

“You know that my mother was a midwife,” he said quietly. He gazed off to the east, where the final glowing embers of the funeral pyre were being extinguished. “She took me with her, sometimes. To help her, and to educate me. I was there when Tamati took his first breath. It was a privilege to be there when he took his last. Thank you for that. And I’m so sorry.”

 

He turned to go.

 

“Wait.” Anaru’s eyes were bloodshot, but dry. He held Chakotay’s gaze steadily. “I want to join the council.”

 

Chakotay stared at him. “Sorry?”

 

“I was reading up on the bylaws. I know that successors are always chosen prior to someone taking a seat on the council, but they can be challenged. I want to challenge Latori’s claim to Tamati’s seat.”

 

“Why?” Chakotay shook his head, his lips curving into a small smile despite himself. “Forgive me, but Tamati said that you hated politics.”

 

Anaru made a small noise that might have been a huff of laughter. It was good to hear that sound again after so long. “I never cared much for it, true. But… it’s hard not to have something rub off, after being with Tamati for so long. He loved being on the council. He loved this planet with everything that he had. And he wanted Dorvan to be part of the Federation again. If I take his spot, the yes votes remain in the majority, and maybe we’ll get another shot at this in our lifetimes.”

 

Chakotay was finding it difficult to breathe. “Anaru -”

 

“Please,” Anaru said softly. “All I know about politics comes from whatever Tamati told me and the only thing I’ve ever known how to do is farm, but please let me do this. Let me _try_. I have to. For him.”

 

Anaru swallowed hard. “I won’t let his dream die just like that. Not without a fight. He worked too hard for it to end like this.”

 

For the first time in weeks, something that felt like hope flared in Chakotay’s chest.

 

“I’ll tell the council first thing tomorrow morning,” he said. “We’ll start the process right away. I hope I’m fortunate enough to serve with you, Anaru.”

 

“If I am able to continue my husband’s legacy, then the honor will be mine.” Anaru held out his hand; Chakotay clasped it. “Thank you, minister. Good night.”

 

****

 

The house was silent. Chakotay picked his way carefully across the living room, weaving around the furniture in the darkness. He bumped into a low table, let out a soft hiss, and massaged his knee. Something fell to the floor, and he groped around blindly for it.

 

It was a PADD. Chakotay activated it and saw that it was Peval’s. The application to cross the border into the Federation. Chakotay scrolled to the bottom of the document signed his name, then deactivated the PADD before he could think too closely about it.

 

Peval was asleep on the couch, shivering in the cool night air. Chakotay took a blanket and draped it over him, tucking it around his arms and feet so that he was entirely cocooned. He put the PADD on the table where Peval would see it in the morning, and went to bed.


End file.
